


Time To Find Out Who's The Daddy...

by kestra_troi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Foot Fetish, Masturbation, Mentions of Pack Orgy, Mentions of knotting, Mommy Kink, Mpreg, Multi, Nail Polish, Nipple Licking, Oral Fixation, Pack Dynamics, Platonic Cuddling, Pregnant Stiles, Scenting, Somnophilia, Wolf Stiles, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kestra_troi/pseuds/kestra_troi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is canon complaint up til the 2nd Season finale. In this AU Scott and company killed Gerard after allowing him to get-slash-giving him the Bite. Following this debacle, Stiles decides to finally take the Bite and becomes a rare form of Wolf called a Delta: a Wolf whose purpose in the Pack is to serve as a peace-maker for intra-Pack conflict, an ambassador to visiting Packs, as well as providing certain services (hint-hint) for Pack members. </p><p>Following an orgy with the male Pack members, Stiles gets pregnant and has no idea who the father is. This story tracks his relationships with each of the Pack members as they deal with his pregnancy and all that comes with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Up The Duff Without A Paddle

**Author's Note:**

> I rated this story explicit for later additions, just in case any porn sneaks its way in. 
> 
> P.S. All of these characters are kinda OOC. Sorry, not sorry. Thats how they came to me, so thats how I wrote them.

Stiles rubbed his belly absentmindedly as he waited for the Pack to arrive. Today was the day he was going to tell them that he was pregnant though he surmised that they would probably be able to smell the difference between Stiles-a-month-and-three-weeks-ago and Stiles today.

Yes Stiles knew the specific day he conceived and so too would the Pack. He might not know which wolf was the father, but he knew the exact day or more accurately night that he had conceived. It had been the night of the summer solstice, which had also coincidentally been a full moon. A full moon that Stiles had been more than ready for as Pack Delta.

He had known he would have to keep Derek, Peter, and Isaac "company" that night, as they didn’t have mates, or lovers, or anything. But what he hadn’t counted on was that Scott, Jackson, and Boyd would also join in on the fucking-Stiles-up-the-ass-train.

And a few days later when he asked each of the three interlopers separately why they had joined in, all three of them pretended not to understand English. He tried to pry it out of Boyd but he was as stoic as ever, Jackson just went on a bullying-jerk verbal-abuse spree, and Scott had somehow kept his mouth shut for maybe the second time in his entire life. That was what tipped Sties off that if he wanted answers he would have to go higher up the Pack hierarchy.

But whenever he had chances to pester Peter or bother Derek he chickened out and just went with his usual ADHD-filled prattlings about this and that and left his questions unasked. Not that he was complaining he had rather enjoyed the marathon-orgy-of-sex that night though yes looking back it did make Stiles blush at how brazenly (and loudly) he had enjoyed being fucked by his best friend, and his former rival for Lydia's attention jock-nemesis, and the much too quiet, much too still guy in the group, and the Alpha, and his uncle, and the blonde.

Now as he sat in Derek's loft on Derek's couch he contemplated his state of affairs: mainly that he had no way of knowing which wolf had fathered the pup. Or pups….Stiles wasn’t sure, too early to tell or so he told himself. If he really wanted to know he was pretty sure Deaton could give him an answer, but Stiles **didn’t** really want to know just yet. He had the feeling, the intuition that it wasn’t just one pup he would be having, but he didn’t want to test that theory just yet.

So Stiles waited for the Pack to return to the loft following what was sure to be another hard-won victory after fighting man-eating, mutant bird-monsters. Lydia and Allison had already headed home after getting texts from Scott and Jackson saying the deed was done and everyone was safe. They planned to have some sexy times with their respective boos and wanted time to prepare so they left giving Stiles quick little kisses goodbye.

Stiles sat there waiting his leg jittering as his mind tried to unknot the mess he felt himself to be in. He earnestly prayed that Peter wasn’t the father, cause (you know) Peter's evil and crazy and completely untrustworthy (with anything besides sex at least). He hoped Jackson wasn’t the father either, because the guy was a total ass and no doubt any child of his would be the same way. He didn’t think Boyd was the father since Boyd had spent the least time knotted to him, but he still quietly thought that it would be best if he weren’t the father. Especially since Stiles and Erica were just starting to get along as friends. Stiles almost gagged when he thought Scott might be the dad as it was bad enough having sex with him (though in the moment he was pretty sure he had begged Scott to knot him and he was also pretty sure they had kissed and not in a peck on the cheek kind of way the entire time they were knotted together). But Stiles thought that having his kid too would push their relationship in a direction he wasn’t ready for.

He decided that he could live with Isaac being the father cause underneath it all Isaac was a decent guy. When it came to Derek, Stiles was ambivalent. Sure he had a crush on the guy and got all wet thinking about him, but he was extra broody and wasn’t the greatest communicator and was maybe a little too damaged for Stiles' taste though Stiles cringed just thinking that way. Its not like it was Derek's fault he's wonky in the head, but Stiles couldn’t really see him as a doting, loving father. He couldn’t picture Derek settling down with him, with their werekids on each knee. He outright laughed when he pictured Derek bouncing them up and down on his knees singing Yankee Doodle to them. So Stiles decided that his best chance of having a decent co-father was Isaac. Sweet, baby Isaac: the angel-faced blonde with the shy grin who was the only one who had touched Stiles' dick that night besides Derek. Well sucked more like.

For a moment Stiles was daydreaming and could almost see himself being content with Isaac and their werebabies, but he didn’t have much time to fantasize as right then the Pack entered the loft arguing about something.

"No!" Isaac was saying rather loudly which is odd for the typically soft-spoken or more aptly rarely spoken Beta. "It was Jackson's fault! If he hadn’t feinted right then that bird-thing wouldn’t have gotten its claws in!"

"Enough!"

That was from Derek the matter or whatever had been the issue was now closed. Stiles stood up and then immediately sat down again. He eyed the group as they schlupped into the room and he stood again.

"How'd it go?" He asked nervously. All he got in response were groans, empty stares, and a warning growl from Derek signaling _don’t-bring-this-up_. For once Stiles obeyed and moved on. "So…uh…can I have a minute…we need to talk…"

"Stiles not now. We are gonna have a quick little debrief then everyone is getting the fuck outta my place. So--"

"Well sorry Alpha mine but this can't wait."

Derek's eyes locked in on Stiles and flashed their red hue. "What?"

There was no time like the present or so Stiles thought and as he thinks so he does. "I'm pregnant…"

Stunned silence filled the room as they guys in the Pack each silently hade a mental panic attack, except Peter who (always) seemed too calm and collected like he thinks he's in the clear, or like he's up to something and Stiles being pregnant plays into it. "…and I have no idea who the father is."

That probably didn’t need clarifying they had all been there except of course Erica who was standing next to Boyd confused as hell. She had had the good fortune of being mysteriously ordered to go home before the orgy started and as Stiles thought of that he suddenly realized that someone had been planning this all along. But before he could connect any more dots, Derek told Erica to leave again, which she did shooting confused looks between Derek, Stiles, and Boyd as she walked slowly to the door and left.

The silence continued for a few more moments then Derek asked, "Are you sure?"

Stiles gave him a look, "No Derek I'm not. I just thought I'd greet you with a lie to test your lie-detecting skills. You know between you and Peter my dad would never have to fiddle with a polygraph ever again. Ever thought of doing good for the community and taking part in the criminal justice syst--"

"Stiles!" Derek barked, literally barked, and Stiles did shut up just as Derek's command implied, but only for a moment.

"Yeah I'm sure…I even had Deaton check me out himself… I'm almost a month and three weeks in…but I don’t need to tell any of you that…you were all there…"

The three bonded wolves had the decency to look down at the floor ashamed, and Isaac too more because that’s just who he is than out of shame or guilt. And as far as Stiles was concerned he had no reason to be ashamed, Isaac had been a very gentle top and had been the last to knot Stiles and had been kind enough to help with the aftercare. Stiles wished Peter would look ashamed just so he could see if Peter was able to feel shame, but Peter just looked straight ahead staring into Stiles' eyes. Derek did the same.

"Yes we were." Derek said softly. "Now go home, Stiles. We have things to discuss."

Stiles stood there slack-jawed mouth agape. "What?!"

"You heard me. GO."

"I tell you I'm pregnant with at least one of y'all's pups and you tell me to go! What is wrong with y--"

"Peter!" Derek yelled out over Stiles. "Take him home."

Peter moved towards Stiles who continued yelling and yelping as he was non-lovingly grabbed, pulled, and pushed out of the loft and into the elevator headed down.

"What the fuck was that!!" Stiles yelled once they were in the contained space of the lift.

Peter just grinned. "I'm sure I don’t know what you're talking about."

Stiles was apoplectic and he had every right to be. He kept yelling and ranting about every male member of the Pack until they were on the ground floor and stepping out of the elevator. Peter abruptly pulled Stiles close to his side as they walked, like they were a couple or something, and that shut Stiles up and made him really uncomfortable.

"Uh…could you please give the pregnant one a little space ya weirdo?"

Peter chuckled, "Oh Stiles you know I would gladly do anything for you, but like you said you're pregnant, which means I'm not only looking out for you, but your pups too."

"Why did you say pups plural?"

Peter looked at Stiles with a bland look on his face. "Why did you?"

Stiles didn’t answer and simply brushed past Peter who was holding the lobby door open for him. As Stiles stepped out into the not so terribly cold night air a chill ran through him and he was suddenly hit with a wave of nausea that sent him doubling over to puke out his dinner.

Peter creepily rubbed Stiles' back which didn’t actually comfort Stiles any, but as he helped Stiles straighten back up a tad disoriented from the blood rushing to his head, Peter took out a handkerchief and wiped Stiles' mouth for him. Stiles would’ve been creeped out had it not been for a second wave of nausea washing over him, but this time he didn’t puke.

The next thing Stiles felt was Peter's jacket being placed on his shoulders. "You seem a tad chilled Stiles. Must be the blood rushing to your insides keeping the pups warm. How many pups do you think you're carrying? Two or Three? Maybe one for each of us? You certainly are a good little breeding Delta, one little orgy and already seeded. Your performance would suggest that your devotion to being the Pack Delta goes beyond mere obedience wouldn’t it? You like being our--"

"If you say bitch I swear to God I will Molotov your ass **again** and cut your charred corpse into so many tiny pieces that not even other werewolves would be able to find them all."

By this point they were already in Peter's car turning out of the loft's parking lot and Stiles was unconsciously burrowing into Peter's jacket. He **was** a little chilled and he did like the smell of Peter coming off the leather, not that he would ever admit that to anyone ever including himself. Undoubtedly however Peter did notice as he had a smirk plastered to his face the entire ride across town to Stiles' place.

When they reached his house Stiles noticed his dad's police cruiser was nowhere in sight and he was internally relieved. He didn’t want to have to deal with his out-of-the-loop-and-exasperated-about-it father, what he wanted was comfort. What he wanted was answers. What he wanted was for Peter to throw him down on his bed and fuck him into the mattress with his thick cock.

Shuddering not from the cold Stiles jerked the car door open, stepped out, slammed the door behind him, and stomped off into the empty house, slamming the front door behind him too for good measure. Stiles went up to his room in a huff and noticed through his window that Peter's car was gone.

Relieved he shook off the jacket and held it tight over his nose. He mostly could smell Peter obviously, but he could also pick up most of the rest of the Packs' scents too: Isaac, Derek, Scott, Jackson, Boyd, and even a little bit of Erica thrown in. He kept taking deep whiffs of the jacket and was incredibly turned on by the smell of Pack, his Pack.

Stiles might have spent the rest of that night with Peter's jacket up by his face and his hand down his pants. Each time he caught a whiff of one of his pack-fellows his jerk-off fantasy shifted to starring them. It started off with Peter, then shifted to Isaac, then Boyd, then Derek, then Scott, and then Jackson and then Scott and then Peter and then back all over again.

Being pregnant was seriously messing with his senses and his libido already. He tried to throw the jacket on the ground far away from him so he could sleep, but then he felt chilled and couldn’t get comfortable even though the a/c was off, the window was closed, the ceiling fan in his room was off, and there was no chill in the air whatsoever. He ended up sleeping with the jacket wrapped around him dreaming that it wasn’t a jacket keeping him warm at all, instead in his mind it was his Pack laying all around him, sharing their body warmth and scents offering comfort and safety and Pack and yes sex too.

∆∆∆

Stiles spent the night having sex dreams about each pack member in turn including Erica, Allison, and Lydia but waking up each time before he could get off.

∆∆∆

Tired and groggy as all hell the next day, Stiles woke up to Jackson crawling into bed with him. Justifiably, Stiles freaked out and practically jumped out of his skin screaming, "OH MY GOD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

Jackson merely grabbed Stiles' arm and actually pulled them closer together. "Cool your jets ass-wipe I'm just here to keep an eye on you…Derek's orders."

That did little to assuage Stiles' confusion or his curiosity. "Why you?! Why not Scott or Isaac or hell even Peter?"

Jackson just shrugged. "Look he told me to come over and hang out with you so that’s what I'm doing."

"Hold up. Hang out? As in you and me doing things together?" Stiles shivered with disgust while Jackson brought his face up into Stiles' personal space inches from his own.

"Look Stilinski I don’t like the idea of spending one of our last days of summer vacation hanging out with you either, ok? So lets just make do, yeah? You don’t bother me and I won't bother you. Alright?"

Stiles just nodded and cringed internally as Jackson not so subtly took a nice big whiff of Stiles and even for a moment nuzzled his neck, before reining himself in with a huff and sitting up and away from Stiles. But still on my bed or so Stiles noted.

Then Stiles noticed that Jackson was shirtless. "Jackson…?" Stiles eyed him with perturbed suspicion, "Why are you not wearing a shirt?"

"Your dad when he went off to work said for me to make myself comfortable as I waited for you to wake up, so I did."

"And comfortable to you equals shirtless?"

"Not exactly--"

"Then why? ‘Cuz let me tell you something: you may look like a Greek Adonis or whatever but that does not mean I want you in my room, in my house, in my bed being all naked! Its weird! I mean yeah I've seen you naked like a thousand times and hell I've even had sex with you, but that does not--Hey!" Stiles' ranting was quickly shut down by Jackson tossing his shirt that had been hanging from one of his belt loops, onto Stiles' face. Dazed and confused were the only words to describe his feelings as Jackson pulled Stiles down and put his arm around them so that they were spooning.

Stiles tossed the shirt down on the ground and struggled to get out of the Beta's grip. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?"

"STILES RELAX!" Jackson yelled back as his grip on Stiles tightened.

"RELAX!? HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO—FUCK! What are you doing?!"

While one of Jackson's hands was petting Stiles' side, what had gotten Stiles' attention was what Jackson was doing with his mouth. He was nibbling and tonguing a spot just behind Stiles' ear. With the skin between his teeth Jackson answered, "I'm trying to help you relax Stilinski. Derek's orders."

"But why behind the ear? And why is it working?" Stiles asked surprised at how he was relaxing into Jackson's arms against his will.

"It’s a pressure point dumbass." Jackson condescended as he stopped nibbling and started nuzzling the mark he had made sighing a little. Contented was what Stiles thought of the small sound Jackson made. "Don’t you pay attention to anything? We talked about stress relief at the last Pack meeting. Remember?"

Stiles did remember the meeting but had no recollection of the whole pressure point thing. He decided to drop that and return to his original question, "Why were you…are you shirtless, Jackson? And why are you cuddling me?"

Jackson blushed a little, "I'm not—look I'm—Derek said I had to come over this morning and I did. And I was gonna wait for you to wake up, but I got bored and came up here to wake you up. I saw Peter's jacket and I could smell him all over you even from the door, so--"

"So you decided to get shirtless and cuddle me and scent me…"

"Look ass-face, you tell anyone about this and I am gonna--"

"What? Sharon Stone me to death?"

"What?"

"Margaret Cho?" When Jackson just shrugged Stiles went on with his point. " _I'm the One That I Want_? Oh my god, don’t you watch any kind of stand up comedy?"

"I watched Dane Cook once…"

"Ok that does not count. Look how ‘bout you let me up, I make some breakfast and we watch some classic Cho, huh? Whattaya say?"

"Fine." Jackson said, as he didn’t move a single (glorious) muscle.

After a beat of silence, "Well…you gonna let me up or…"

"Quiet, Stilinski."

"Wow, you really **do** wanna cuddle me! Awwww…that’s so cute--"

"Shut up, Stilinski!" Jackson growled through gritted teeth.

"Big jock on campus wants to spoon--"

"I said shut up Stilinski! Don’t you ever shut up?!"

"Nah! Not really. Especially not when Jackson Whittemore, captain of the lacrosse team, and all around jerk is half-naked and cuddling me in my own bed!"

"Stiles! I swear to God--!"

"Oh don’t get your dick in a twist I'm only teasing. Why are you so sensitive? Is it your time of the month? Are you—Oh God!"

"What is it?" Jackson asked perplexed as Stiles resumed trying to wriggle his way out of Jackson's arms.

"Let go! Unless you wanna be covered in barf!"

Jackson let go and Stiles leapt out of the bed just in time to puke into the bathroom toilet. Stiles hardly noticed it when Jackson sauntered in and sat beside him as he upchucked, but he did notice when Jackson began rubbing his back and his stomach with his hands.

Once Stiles stopped puking and brushed his teeth, twice just to be sure, Jackson carried him, literally carried him back to his bed and laid him down to rest.

"What do you want for breakfast? My treat."

"Don’t you mean your dad's treat?"

"Stiles. What. Do. You. Want. To. Eat." Jackson enunciated every word like Stiles was a child.   

"Nothing. I'm not hungry." Of course in that very moment his stomach rumbled and he pouted a tad embarrassed.

"Stiles…?"

Stiles sighed, "Fine. I wanna a chocolate milkshake and some gummy worms and a greasy burger and some curly fries and lots of mustard and… pickles! Must have pickles!"

Jackson grabbed his shirt from the floor and made to leave, but Stiles sat up against his headboard and asked, "Jackson why are you doing this? All of this, I mean. And don’t say because Derek told you to, because we both know he didn’t tell you to get shirtless and cuddle me."

"Look—I don’t know…I walked in and…I didn’t like how you smelled so much like Peter, so…I needed you to smell like me and then I got a whiff of you…ya know…your scent and…I liked…you smelt good…and if you tell anyone what I just said or …you know…did I will--"

"Jackson." Stiles interrupted, "Say no more…your **completely** understandable desire to get all up on this will stay just between you and me. Ok?"

Jackson nodded.

But Stiles couldn’t help messing with the jock-jerk. "And Scott, and Derek, and Peter, and Isaac, and Erica, and Allison, and Boyd, and oh yeah your girlfriend Lydia!" Stiles called as Jackson stormed out and drove away. Stiles felt victorious and very proud with himself until twenty minutes later when Jackson returned with all the food Stiles had wanted and his Margaret Cho DVD. Admittedly, in that moment he felt a little sheepish, but he kept that to himself.

They watched the show on Stiles' laptop in relative quiet while Stiles ate his fill. Jackson humphed in laughter every once in a while and Stiles slurped up his milkshake giggling here and there. When it was done there was awkward silence between the two teens. Jackson spoke first, "Please don’t tell anyone about this morning ok?"

He requested as he kissed that damned spot behind Stiles' ear repeatedly. "Sure Jackson, sure. I promise. No one will know… unless of course they look behind my ear at the hickie you’ve left there."

Jackson actually looked flustered for a second, "Sorry… just…just don’t wear any more of Peter's clothes ok? It makes you smell like him and he's a total creeper. You should smell like you."

"Alright, I promise no more clothes from Peter."

There was another moment of silence as the two let the promise soak in the air. But since when can Stiles be quiet for too long?

"You think I smell that good, huh?"

Jackson rolled his eyes.  

∆∆∆

Stiles' next strange encounter with one of the Pack came the next afternoon when Isaac showed up saying he had spontaneously decided to learn how to play the X-Box as he had never been allowed to when living with his father. How could Stiles say no to that sob story and Isaac's puppy dog eyes that rivaled Scott's? He couldn’t and didn’t so he spent the day playing X-Box with Isaac and intermittently throwing up.

"Why is it called morning sickness if it can happen at any time of day? Huh? Huh? Answer me that!"

Isaac just looked all guilty and shrugged making Stiles feel bad for raising his voice even for a legitimate reason like not wanting to be sick at any random moment. They resumed playing video games without any further voice-raising incident (aside from the smack talk) and only one more vomit-break.

While they were eating supper Isaac asked, "Have you done the summer readings for English yet?"

"Yeah," Stiles said while cramming food in his mouth. When he "chewed" and swallowed he added, "…Awhile ago. You?"

"I haven’t finished _Billy Boyd_ yet but I finished the _Scarlet Letter_. I liked it."

"Yeah me too. And _Billy Boyd_ is a bore to read. It took me the longest."

"Yeah. I feel like I don’t understand what's happening half the time." Isaac said with a little lopsided grin.

Not looking up from his food Stiles went straight to the point, "Isaac…did Derek order you to come over and keep me company?"

Isaac swallowed the food he had in his mouth and it got stuck a moment and then moved on down. Staring at his plate he whispered softly, "Not order, more like suggest."

Stiles groaned but went back to eating.

"Are you mad?"

Stiles didn’t swallow he just talked with his mouth full like a cretin, "Not mad." He swallowed so he could be clearer. "Not mad, just…Derek didn’t really seem to care about the whole…you know…the other night…he seemed kinda pissed off like I'd done something to offend him. And the way he just sent me home like that--"

"Yeah he shouldn’t have done that. Scott gave him an earful for that after he came to his senses. I think…I think he was just in shock was all and tired from the mutant, man-eating-bird hunt…"

"So having his Betas keep me company is some kind of apology or…what?"

"No…not really an apology…more like a new policy." Isaac said as he got up to put his plate in the sink, happy for the chance to turn his back to Stiles' prying eyes.

"New policy? Whattaya do mean Isaac?"

Isaac shrugged, "I'm not supposed to talk about it. I'm sure Derek will explain later…"

"Yeah and I'm sure he won't so why don’t you just beat him to the punch, huh?"

"Stiles…" Isaac whined, flat out whined.

"Isaac." Stiles said resolute also getting up to put his plate in the sink and to get Isaac back to looking at him. Stiles gingerly reached for Isaac's arm and gently turned Isaac so they were facing each other. Isaac's gaze never left the ground as Stiles moved up closer to him, into his personal space trying to play the tough guy part. Stiles had been on the other side of the I'm-gonna-puff-out-my-manly-chest routine so many times he knew how it worked and he really wished he didn’t have to do this to Isaac. But Stiles did it because he needed to know. He would always need to know. God didn’t just whack him with the curiosity stick He shoved it up Stiles' ass and left it there. Stiles moved in closer crowding Isaac between the counter’s corner.

"Isaac please…I trust you. I know you'll tell me the truth. We're Pack. There are no secrets between Pack."

Sighing resignedly, Isaac nodded his head in agreement. "Alright, just don’t get upset. Its not good for the…you know…"

"Pups, Isaac? Go ahead I know that’s what they're gonna be called. I've done the research. So why don’t we sit back down at the table and have a nice little chat. Yeah?"

Isaac nodded and the two sat on opposite ends of the table. "So what is going on?"

"Derek doesn’t want you to be alone. You know…at this time…He wants you to always have someone from the Pack nearby to keep an eye out for you."

"And let me guess you drew the short straw today just like Jackson did yesterday."

"No. Is that what Jackson told you? That’s not what happened, he was probably just trying to save face with you…"

Stiles was intrigued, "Oh really? So what did happen?"

"Well, I'm not supposed to say anything, but…Jackson was really…excited…about the idea of you…you know…having pups…" Isaac quickly added, "I mean he didn’t say anything, but I could tell from his scent that he was excited as in…you know… like anticipating not like…"

"Aroused, yeah…got it…" Stiles finished.

"Yeah…he wanted to come over first. To smell you in person, just you and him…to make sure you weren’t lying…"

"Did he really think I would lie about something like this?"

"No, but you know Jackson. He doesn’t trust anybody. He sent a text to the Pack saying you weren’t lying that he could smell the difference in your scent."

"Did he say how it was different?"

"No, just that it was. And it is. I can't really explain how, but you do smell a little different." Under his breath he added, "You smell good."

Of course Stiles heard him, though Isaac hadn’t really meant for him to, "What? Did I used to smell like a burning tire factory filled with rotten eggs before?! Why do I suddenly smell soooo good now?!"

Isaac tried to clarify, "You didn’t smell bad before Stiles. You smelled like you, but now, there's more to it. Or maybe its just more potent, sweeter…it really catches the attention. Uhm… Stiles…would you…maybe…like to…"

"Cuddle?" Stiles asked somewhat exasperated. Isaac just nodded. "Sure. Come on. Lets go to my room, my dad will be home soon."

As they walked to Stiles' room Isaac kept talking, "I know its weird…I know you would prefer someone else…"

"Isaac. Lay down with me will ya?" Stiles took off his shirts and Isaac did the same. Then Stiles laid down on his bed and Isaac did too kinda. He just laid down practically on top of Stiles with his head beneath Stiles' chin, like he was a scared kid. Stiles was going to say something but then he felt Isaac's nose dig into his collarbone and he felt Isaac smelling him so he decided to hold his tongue.

Well at least for a minute. "Like what you smell?"

Isaac answered quietly, "Yeah…you smell good…like Pack. I can smell Jackson on you and some Peter…but mostly just you and…soap."

"Yeah well I showered today. Had to, Jackson's cuddle-cooties were giving me hives."

"He cuddled you too?" Isaac asked with a soft smile.

"Yeah…but don’t tell him I told you about. Old jerk-face is very sensitive about being physical with me. Though as I recall none of you had a problem with that a month and three weeks ago. What was that about by the way? Everyone just decide to have a go with Stiles? Check that off their bucket lists?" Stiles tried to joke about it, bit he seriously did want to know.

Isaac just nuzzled Stiles' chest and collarbone deeper and licked him a little, which was weird for Stiles, but not Isaac apparently. "You should ask Derek all these questions. He is the Alpha, you know…"

"Yeah I know." Stiles said defeated as he felt Isaac take another few licks of his skin. "Like how I taste?"

Isaac blushed and weakly said, "Yeah…is that weird?"

Stiles lied, "No." But then he amended, "Well it’s not exactly what I thought you would be doing, but its fine…is that why Derek let you…you know…blow me…that night?" Now Stiles was blushing.

For a few minutes Isaac didn’t answer. Then a with a deep breath he said, "Yeah…he knows I like…that I have…an oral… kinda…fixation…I guess. Scent is a big deal for us wolves, as you know, and it is for me too, but…I also like to taste."

"And did you like the taste then too?"

"Yeah. I've always wanted to taste you since I became a wolf. Derek said its because I could sense you were a Delta-in-waiting and I wanted to bond with you…"

"Oh…Why didn’t you say anything about it earlier? Before I was turned?"

"Well you weren’t a wolf then and I didn’t understand why I wanted to be close to you, so I ignored it. Chocked it up to loneliness…or whatever…Derek, Peter, Boyd, and Erica aren’t exactly great company."

"Yeah…" Stiles agreed. "No kidding."

The conversation petered out after that and the remained cuddling the rest of the afternoon. When the Sheriff came home, Isaac put his shirt back on and left through the window with a quiet goodbye. Leaving Stiles alone with his thoughts and his apparently sweet scent and his feelings of hunger.

"DAD!? WHATS FOR DINNER?!"


	2. Crazy White Boys And Their Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter Stiles gets a visit from Boyd and Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some serious dubious consent issues here...TRIGGER WARNING.

The next visit was Scott’s and to say it didn’t go well would be an understatement. They were supposed to have spent the day playing video games marathon-style. That lasted ‘til midafternoon when he and Scott got into a fight. Angry and hurtful words were spoken, things were said that were never meant to be said out loud and Scott ran away through Stiles’ bedroom window.

The fight left Stiles fuming the rest of the day. But by nightfall all his insecurities and obsessive thoughts turned his anger into sadness and anxiety. Stiles sat on the edge of his bed in his pajama bottoms trying not to cry and failing spectacularly. How long he sat there crying he didn’t know, but his head jerked up the instant he heard a knocking at his window. Before he could utter a word Boyd came over the windowsill.

Regaining his senses and trying to distract Boyd from his obvious tear-stained and puffy face Stiles said petulantly, "You’ve been hanging around Derek too much."

Silence followed and when no rebuttal or reply came Stiles continued, "What are you doing here? I thought you said you'd come by tomorrow?"

"I did." And with those two simple words Boyd pointed to Stiles' alarm clock. It read 12:07am. "It is tomorrow."

Stiles felt a traitorous tear stream down his face and turned to cover his face with his arm. "So…" Stiles cleared his throat. "KUH…what brings you here so early this glorious morning?" He smiled trying to lighten the mood and also save face in front of the too-cool-for-school Boyd.

"Jackson is known for being a real douche, but Scott can be just as much of an ass sometimes too…" Was all Boyd said as he joined Stiles on the bed.

"No arguments from this corner." Stiles agreed whole-heartedly. After a beat of silence (and stillness on Boyd's part) Stiles had to ask, "Do you wanna cuddle or…?"

"I wanna hold you. I know you're upset."

Stiles didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t upset and nodded his head. As they moved into position with Boyd sitting with his back against the headboard and Stiles cradled in his arms, Stiles talked, "We don’t have to do this ya'know if its too weird for you…I mean you're with Erica and all so--"

"Erica is Pack." Boyd interrupted, "She knows what that entails."

"Oh." Stiles said resting his head on Boyd's warm shoulder. After a beat of no sounds other than their breathing Boyd added, "Besides, I already told her about that night."

"So she knows why you're here, huh?"

"Yeah."

"She's not mad at you is she? She doesn’t hate you does she? Or me?"

"Like I said…she's Pack." Boyd's arms tightened around Stiles, his fingers caressing Stiles' tummy. "She's working on accepting the fact that you might be the mother of my pups."

Stiles simply nodded and breathed in Boyd's scent, attempting to drink in his calm and calming demeanor. He burrowed his face into Boyd's neck, which partly muffled what he said next, "She hates me doesn’t she?"

Boyd smirked, "Sleep, Stiles. We'll talk more in the morning."

Stiles put a hand on Boyd's arm. "Wow, she must really hate me if you're gonna wait until morning. She must really, **really** hate me."

Boyd laid a kiss on Stiles' forehead. "She'll deal. You’re Pack. Now, sleep."

∆∆∆

Morning came and went with Stiles' now normal pregnancy moments. Boyd being Boyd gave Stiles the space he needed at the time i.e. he let Stiles be in the bathroom alone while throwing up, showering, and brushing his teeth, and peeing.

When he returned freshly washed to Boyd's arms after they had had a huge breakfast meal paid for by one Derek Hale's credit card Boyd asked, "What got you and Scott so upset?"

Stiles considered not answering, but out of the entire Pack Boyd was probably the only one Stiles could trust with a secret. Whispering, Stiles answered, "He was freaking out about that night… you know…what we did…"

"But we all did that, so what's the big deal?"

"Ok well not _that_ per se but…he felt weird about doing that with me cause you know Allison…"

"And?"

"And…he felt weird about kissing me."

"We all kissed you that night."

"Yeah but…the rest of you gave me a kiss. He…and me… I…we like kissed-kissed, like for the whole time he was knotted to me."

"Oh."

"Yeah, full-on Guinness World Record-style kissing went on… marathon-esque snogging occurred… we were swapping spit on a level not seen since like ever…and he felt weird about it…you know cause--"

"Allison." Boyd kissed Stiles' forehead like he did the night previous. "Don’t worry Stiles they won't last. He’ll come to his senses again someday."

Confused, Stiles wondered, "Why do you say that?"

"Scott's thing with Allison is his first love. How often do first loves last? Besides she's an Argent. She can have flings with wolves all she wants but when it comes down to it she’s not gonna settle down with one of our kind."

"So you think they got a whole Angel/Buffy epic, yet utterly hopeless, romance thing going on?"

"Yeah."

"Is Erica your first love?"

"No."

"Oh, there was someone else?"

"Yes."

"Do I know them?"

"Probably."

"Will you give me some clues?"

"Nope."

"You're not gonna tell me who they are, are you?"

"Nope."

"What if I guess who they are? Would you confirm it?"

"No."

"Am I annoying you?"

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"Yeah."

"Was it Greenburg? Cause if it was we need to have a serious conversation about STI's…"

"Stiles…let’s get some food."

"Was it Sheila? Cause I could see you with her ya'know? You two could have some beautiful babies."

"Lunch or breakfast?"

"Yes."

"Then get dressed and I’ll take you out to Habanero's."

"Oooooh…" Stiles crowed excitedly, "…breakfast tacos, migas, and carne guisada, oh my!"

"Stiles…" Boyd gave the now bouncy Stiles a look.

"I'll try and tone it down in public I promise."

"Thanks." Boyd said, adding, "I can handle only so much crazy, white boy in a day."

"I don’t know…" Stiles said, "You handled me pretty well that night as I recall."

"That was different. That was sex."

"Oh so you can handle me as your sex toy but not as a person? What's gonna happen if the pups are yours?"

Without missing a beat Boyd quipped, "Then I'll silently go crazy raising my biracial pups with their loud, clumsy, annoying, and completely infuriating white-boy father."

A small, mischievous smile crept up on Stiles' face. "Thanks."

"No problem."

With that the two left Stiles' house and Boyd took Stiles to Habanero's, where Boyd sat in horror as he watched Stiles eat tons of food.

"Stiles…you’re eating enough to choke an elephant or a T-Rex. And you chew loud." Boyd was used to seeing teenaged werewolves chow down but was truly taken aback by the amount of food Stiles shoved into his face.

"Hey! Leave me be alright? I’m eating for at least two now..."

∆∆∆

The next day Peter waltzed into Stiles' room and Stiles groaned loudly. "UGH!! Stay away from me Peter! We are NOT spooning, or cuddling, or touching in any way, shape, or form EVER!!"

Peter grinned his creepy grin, "Relax, Stiles. I have no such intentions. I am merely here to recover my jacket. The one you stole from me."

Somewhat relieved, and refusing to show it, Stiles said pointing to a heap of clothes on the floor, "Its over there on the floor."

Peter eyed the heap with only some slight distaste coloring his features, but he then soon dug into the heap to retrieve his coat. "What wonderful care you give to such precious things." Peter said his words of course dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure your pups will greatly appreciate being raised by a slob."

"I am NOT a slob." Stiles argued. "I've just been busy…"

"Oh, yes I know…all of my fellow Betas have been cloyingly eager to keep you company, yet I fail to see the allure…"

Stiles beamed a smug smile in Peter's direction, "Its my Stilinski charm and delectable wit."

"I think it’s because of these two pups you're carrying inside you. My dear I do believe we have finally found out what it takes for you to be popular: being bred by every male wolf in the city."

Stung, yet unwilling to admit it Stiles simply turned his back and faced the window. "Just go away, Peter. Leave me alone."

"Oh come now, don’t be petulant. Let’s us play nice." Stiles just shrugged and rolled his eyes still looking out his window.

"Whatever."

Peter moved up closer to Stiles, but kept a slight distance. "Lets us talk of happier times, good times…"

Stiles didn’t deign to answer.

"That night…as I recall…after my nephew had his way with you, you were more than eager to have my knot as well."

"And as **I** recall you were all too eager to give it to me. Do you make a habit of having Derek's sloppy seconds?"

Peter chuckled and closed the distance between the two and wrapped his arms around the younger man. He went straight to the jugular with his nose and inhaled deeply. Stiles struggled against his grip, futilely. "Get off me you psycho-wolf! Let GO!"

Peter's nuzzling stopped but then Stiles felt teeth ghosting along his neck and Stiles struggled harder. "STOP PETER! NO!! BAD DOG!! NO BITING! NO!!"

But as he is wont to do Peter ignored Stiles' demands and bit down on Stiles' neck, not hard enough to permanently scar him just enough to give him a monster of a hickey and make him be still. And it worked the fight went out of Stiles and he simply went limp against Peter. Peter licked the mark he made and then up Stiles' neck to his ear and whispered, "If I were the Alpha there'd be no question whose pups you're carrying. They'd be mine, all mine."

Stiles snorted, "If I knew for sure they were yours I would’ve gotten rid of them pronto."

"Oooh…" Peter cooed, "…so spiteful. Surely our interlude together wasn’t as bad as all that."

"What? Do you need reassurance or something? Doubting your sexual prowess are we?"

Peter nipped at Stiles' ear, "Hardly, my pretty little--."

"I am NOT your bitch!"

"You were that night…" Stiles shook his head, "…oh you begged so prettily, so willing, so open, so used."

Stiles shivered.

"You’ve been wanting to be touched haven’t you? When the others came by did you even try to resist being cuddled, and spooned, and petted?"

Stiles didn’t answer.

"I didn’t think so." Peter began rubbing Stiles' belly with his hands. "That’s one of the symptoms of wolf pregnancy you know: needing to be near Pack, touched by Pack, held by Pack, fucked by Pack."

Stiles suddenly became very aware of Peter's erection and his own half-hard cock. Stiles shook his head, "I don’t want to."

"Stiles I just heard your heart quicken when you said 'I don’t want', why are you lying? Don’t you want me to make you feel good like I did that night?"

Stiles' breath wavered as he inhaled. He turned his head and tried to nuzzle Peter's face. "No Peter, please, not right now."

Peter smiled, "Later then, my pet."

"I am NOT your pet."

"Whatever you say dear." Peter whispered with false acquiescence as he continued rubbing Stiles' belly. "Whatever you say." A tense moment of silence passed between the two as Stiles absolutely refused to succumb to Peter’s dastardly attempts at being a comfort. His body however, seemed to have other ideas.

"Relax, Stiles, relax. Stress isn’t good for the pups. How about you take a nap."

Against his will Stiles was being greatly soothed by Peter’s ministrations. He could feel his eyes getting heavy, which was weird cause he hadn’t been tired at all until Peter came along and mentioned something.

Stiles huffed, "Go away, Peter. I’m tired and it’s all your fault."

"Why should I leave?"

"Because I’m telling you to. It would go a long way in building goodwill between you and the pup-daddy if you would actually listen to me."

"I am listening."

Stiles rolled his eyes still aware of Peter’s wood that was now rubbing his ass through the fabric of their pants. "You know what I meant! And STOP humping me!"

"Why don’t you lay down Stiles? You need your rest."

"I wouldn’t need to rest if you weren’t annoying me by incessantly being creepy and pedophilic!" Stiles yawned despite himself and moved towards his bed with Peter still pressed up against him. "God! Can’t you leave me alone?!" Stiles whined. Then added more to himself than to Peter, "Can’t even walk to my bed by myself anymore!"

"Would you like me to undress you?" Peter cooed sweetly.

"NO! I’ve had enough of you touching me!"

"Would you like me to hold you while you sleep?"

"What did I just say? Did your hearing suddenly become impaired?! I. Don’t. Want. You. Touching. Me!"

Stiles plopped down on his bed and toed off his shoes and socks. He laid down and snuggled into his unmade bed trying to ignore Peter’s presence. Which was easier said than done as Peter in his infinitely evil fashion laid down on Stiles’ bed too, close enough for Stiles to know he was there, but without hardly touching Stiles at all. Except for his dick sitting on Stiles’ ass.

"Can’t you get rid of that…thing?"

"Go to sleep, Stiles."

"How can I sleep with you in my bed?"

There was no reply except Peter reaching out and placing his hand on Stiles’ belly. "GOD what is it with y’all and petting me?!"

"Go to sleep, Stiles. Be a good little boy for once."

"Fuck that’s creepy."

"Sleep." Stiles felt his eyes start to close, but he fought valiantly against his newfound need to sleep.

"Whatta you gonna do…y’know…while I sleep?"

Peter chuckled. "I’m here to watch you, Stiles. And that is what I’ll do."

"That’s creepy. Like Twilight creepy…are you sure you’re not a vampire?"

"Stiles I’m insulted you were knotted to me for over thirty minutes you know full well that I am not a vampire…" Stiles snorted. "…besides the only part of me that sparkles are my eyes."

Stiles snorted again, softer this time. "Geez, creepy and vain. And surprisingly up on the pop culture references. Maybe there’s hope for you yet."

This time it is Peter who snorts, "Not likely. Now, sleep, my pet."

"I am not your pet." Stiles reiterated sleepily.

"And yet you obey so easily, so willingly…" Peter chuckled sinisterly. "Now, sleep."

Part of Stiles didn’t understand why he was suddenly so tired and oh so willing to listen to Peter’s "suggestions", but another part of him was all too happy to roll over. In fact there was a particular part of him that had wanted to fuck Peter as much as Peter had wanted to fuck him, so Stiles decided to count the fact that no sex occurred as a victory and promptly fell asleep. Which was a silly thing to do with an avowed creeper lying next to him.

Peter kept rubbing Stiles’ belly until Stiles was in a deep state of sleep, that’s when he made his move. He scooted closer to Stiles and threw off the cover, which made the sleeping Stiles curl up trying to keep warm. Sensing his bedmate’s sudden chill Peter did the only honorable thing he could do and moved himself to be slightly on top of the still sleeping boy. Peter rucked up Stiles’ shirt and unzipped his pants quickly and quietly, while providing Stiles with his wolfy warmth.

\-----

Peter like most people in Beacon Hills had never really thought of Stiles as a sexual being. In his day he had offered the boy the bite because he saw the potential the boy had for being a valuable member of a pack. And he also did it to toy with the boy a little. Peter never could resist messing with people a trait he knew made it so easy for people to hate him and kill him.

\-----

Caressing Stiles’ growing belly and barely-there bump got Peter thinking about that night, about Stiles begging for his cock and knot, about almost biting the boy, almost claiming him. And he would’ve (and would) if it hadn’t been (and wasn’t) for his nephew forbidding his Betas from biting the new Pack Delta.

\-----

Peter had never considered that he could become even remotely attracted to the klutz of a boy who had nevertheless helped in killing him. He could’ve easily handled the wolves and the Argents if it hadn’t been for a certain currently sleeping boy setting him on fire. Peter, once he returned and got to thinking of all that had happened, smirked at the cruelty of burning a burn victim. He hated being thwarted and then being reduced to a mere Beta in his _nephew’s_ pack, but he could appreciate that special place inside of Stiles that had conceived of such a cruel tactic as fire, as a Molotov cocktail on a burn victim.

\------

Getting hard reliving the night he temporarily and somewhat got to have his way with Stiles, Peter started jerking off determined to cover Stiles with his scent again. He knew what he was doing was childish and "creepy", he knew he should be above such things, but the "brats" as he called the Pack in his mind, had all scented Stiles, each marking him with their own scents and covering Peter’s original claim.

Peter intensely wanted to bite Stiles, to claim him and the pups as his own. He didn’t care for the actual paternity it didn’t matter, they would be wolves and they would be useful. He wanted to bite down so hard and make the boy bleed, taste his sweet blood, claim his as his mate and he would if Derek’s order against biting wasn’t still in effect.

The older man was well aware even as he jerked off fantasizing about the sleeping boy beneath him, that he wasn’t attracted to Stiles per se, but more to the promise of power a wolf would get by claiming a Delta. The ability to create or grow a Pack without having to turn anyone was a rare privilege, one Peter would’ve taken full advantage of had he still been an Alpha. But as it was he was stuck merely cumming on the boy, scenting him in a short term, perhaps ineffective way, yet he needed to keep his scent around the boy, to keep himself in the kid’s thoughts.

Peter kept visualizing Stiles on his knees begging for him like Stiles had that night. He found that thinking about seeing and hearing the boy beg was a most invigorating of scenes. He would want _that_ Stiles in his Pack, and in his bed, fat with _his_ pups. He was so close…Grunting as softly as he could Peter picked up the pace, putting his mouth on Stiles’ neck and nibbling when he wished he could be biting. He was _so_ close…

\-----

Peter had decided that once he was an Alpha again he would steal Stiles away and breed him continuously. He could almost see his brood of amber-brown, doe-eyed boys and electric-blue-eyed girls waiting to be molded in his own image. His own Pack, his own werewolf army…

\----

Reacting to the sudden chill Stiles inadvertently grabbed Peter’s shirt, pulling him down, and snuggling into the warmth of Peter’s wolfy body. What pushed Peter over the edge was the feeling of Stiles nuzzling his neck, breathing deeply, and (unconsciously) scenting him softly grunting as he came he coating Stiles’ belly in his semen.

Awakened by the sudden feeling of wetness Stiles called out groggily, "Peter?"

Ever quick to cover his tracks, Peter returned to rubbing Stiles’ belly, rubbing his cum into the boy’s skin. "Shhh, Stiles. Everything is under control. Sleep pet, sleep."

"You’re creepy." Stiles whispered as he turned over on his side with Peter still petting him and he promptly fell back asleep. Peter zipped himself up and got into a proper position for spooning all without stopping his belly rubs. He continued rubbing until his cum had dried and covered Stiles’ belly and chest.

Peter remained alert considering many things through the rest of the afternoon and that night as he "watched" over Stiles. He thought of all the events of the recent years that had led him to his current place in life: a Beta, in his incompetent nephew’s pack, surrounded constantly by teenaged brats, reduced to merely cumming _on_ a boy he would much rather be cumming _in_.

He laid there beside Stiles, who now and again would waken and then succumb to another of Peter’s orders to sleep. He laid there considering that as it was he had a one in six chance of being the father of these pups. He didn’t care for the odds and he wished he knew of a way to keep Stiles from breeding anymore with the others, but even his nefarious knowledge of the supernatural had its limits.


	3. ...And Now A Word From Our Alpha!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School starts. Scott and Stiles are still not talking. Derek finally pays Stiles a visit. The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My most sincerest apologies...I know. I know it has been sinful of me that I havent updated this story in so long. I am sorry! But I didnt want to turn in a ridiculously short chapter or one that I thought was awful, and rl got in the way of things as it does, so...SORRY!!!!!
> 
> I hope yall think this is ok. Its just plot stuff, no sex or anything...sorry.

School started. Stiles was unhappy about it. At the moment Stiles was unhappy about a lot of things. Things like the constant nausea, the any-time-of-day-sickness that refused to restrict itself to mornings, the headaches, and the latest and greatest symptom: cramps! As if wanting to throw up wasn’t bad enough now he also wanted to curl into a little ball and die. So yeah…Stiles was unhappy. 

The first day of the fall semester had arrived and with it came Stiles’ delightful new pregnancy symptom. When he got up that day and he recovered from his now typical morning sickness, he almost doubled over in pain.

"Great." He muttered to himself under his breath, as he limped his way to the closet and got as ready for the day as was possible. With momentous trepidation Stiles grabbed his stuff and made his way out of the house and into his car. Already exhausted he put the keys in the ignition and headed off to school.

He drove slower than he normally was inclined to, but not because he was pregnant. No he was doing it because…it might rain and then where would he be? Driving like a maniac in pouring rain with an old jeep with old breaks…a recipe for disaster. So…okay…yeah it wasn’t actually raining…so yeah he was driving slow because of his pregnancy, but since he was alone for the first time in what seemed like a thousand years he was going to enjoy it. He was going to take his time, before he got to school where most of the Pack would be waiting to pounce on him, and cuddle him, and wait on him hand and foot. Or wait on him paw and…other paw?

"I really need other friends." He again muttered to himself as he looked in his rearview mirror to see Jackson’s fancy silver car behind him, following him, matching his speed. He also could see that Jackson wasn’t alone in the car: Isaac was tucked away in there too.

"What you couldn’t wait!? We’re not even in school yet. GOD, ya asshole."

Stiles knew that Jackson and Isaac were just following orders and their own smothering, paternal, overprotective instincts, but honestly he needed his space. And if he couldn’t get it while driving when else would he be free?

Stiles had always thought he’d want a big family. After all the years that it had just been him and his dad, while he loved his dad and didn’t begrudge him anything, he had always kinda wondered what it would be like to have lots of siblings. He even daydreamed about what it’d be like to have lots of kids. Of course when he had thought about it he imagined he’d be the father and not the…mother? Carrier? Incubator? He resolved to come up with a better term later probably while he dozed off in one of his classes.

In the meantime he was pulling into the school parking lot and there standing by the empty space he usually parked in was Boyd and Erica. He groaned, but still took that spot and slowly made to get out of his car.

"So I guess y’all are the welcoming party?" Stiles quipped as he opened the door and stepped out. "Greetings Earthlings, I come in peace."

The two werewolves rolled their eyes almost in perfect unison. "Y’all need to stop spending so much time together. Its creepy."

"Come on Stiles we’re gonna be late for class." Erica said ignoring the sarcasm.

"Wait up. Hold on." Stiles commanded as the wolves including Jackson and Isaac had moved towards him as if to grab him and carry him through the school. "We’re gonna need some ground rules."

"Ground rules?" Jackson asked incredulously in his typical asshole-ish manner. "Ground rules for what?"

"Ground rules for y’all’s wolfy behavior around me, the pregnant one."

"Stiles…" Isaac whined. "We know how to behave in public ok? We don’t need a--"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Stiles interrupted. "Who’s the pregnant one here? Huh? Huh? If you’re pregnant and you know it raise your hand…oh that’s right, it’s just me. I’m the one that’s pregnant. Meaning I get to set the rules. So here we go: Rule One, there will be **_no_** cuddling AT ALL while on school grounds. Rule Two, there will be NO kissing, or licking, or biting, or nibbling while on school grounds. Rule Three, there will be no rubbing of the belly or talking to the belly or any of that nonsense while on school grounds. Ok? Are these rules clear?"

The wolves nodded their heads listlessly.

"Good. Now, I can add to these rules whenever I want to so keep on your toes. I’d hate to have to kill one of my potential pup-daddies on the first day of school."

They all headed in together. Boyd and Erica walked in front of Stiles while Jackson and Isaac walked behind. They weren’t particularly protecting Stiles or crowding him per se, but they were all close enough that should anyone come nearby they could be by his side in a flash. And for a moment Stiles appreciated the gesture, and yeah maybe even liked it, but he snapped out of it when some guy bumped into Stiles and Jackson pushed the poor guy into the lockers… **hard**.

After that episode Stiles refused to accept how he felt about the whole thing and settled on being moody, sarcastic, and difficult. Not that anyone appeared to notice a difference, besides the moodiness, which made Stiles liable to cry at the drop of a hat. But he didn’t have much choice in the matter since his hormones were doing all kinds of somersaults and loop-de-loops.

For example, when lunch came around and the cafeteria was out of pizza Stiles may or may not have cried silent-ish tears. Ten minutes later Stiles was back to his slightly more emotionally-normal self and made each member of the Pack sitting with him swear to never mention a word about his outburst again under penalty of death and lose of cuddling privileges.

Erica of course huffed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t want cuddling privileges…so I guess that means I’m free to blab about your little fit all I want.”

“Um, hello? Also said under penalty of death, Erica. Death as in not living anymore because Stiles shot you with a mountain ash bullet.”

“And where would you get this mountain ash bullet?” Erica antagonized.

“From Allison, obviously.” Stiles responded, just as antagonistic.

“Oh really.” Erica pressed on. “And what would you tell her you needed it for? She’s not exactly in the know, you know. Her or Lydia. Which is why Scott and Jackson are sitting over there with them, while us three have to sit here with you. The whiny, bawling baby-buggy with weird little moles…”

“Hey!” Stiles interrupted. “My moles are not weird! They’re considered cute…in certain circles…”

“Yeah, whatever.” Erica said.

“Hey, both of you calm down. Arguing can’t be good for the pups.” Isaac suggested somewhat timidly.

“Both of you bitches go back into your cages. Alright?” Boyd added with a little more force behind his words. “Isaac’s right. Arguing and yelling aren’t good for the pups.” With a stern look Boyd turned to face Erica who was sitting next to him. “Alright?”

“Fine. Whatever.” She said, folding her arms across her chest. Boyd turned his gaze onto Stiles next.

“Alright…fine. I’m cool. We’re cool. Everything’s cool.” Right then the bell rang and the four teens were on their feet heading to their next classes. Stiles looked around him, ostensibly playing it cool like ‘hey yeah I look around at my fellow schoolmates all the time, no agenda here’, but totally failing at it. He was looking for Scot whom he hadn’t seen or talked to since their fight and whom he had English with right after lunch. He caught sight of Scott walking hand in hand with Allison, heading the wrong way for English, but the right way to Pre-Calculus which Allison had next.

Dejected, slightly, Stiles walked to English alone. He took his regular seat by the window, but when the time came Scott didn’t sit next to him. Not that Stiles really wanted Scott to sit next to him and ramble about how awesome Allison is at everything, but they were best friends and best friends talk to each other. But Stiles wasn’t quite ready to talk to Scott anyway, so it was better that they didn’t sit next to each other. Not yet at least.

The rest of the day passed like any other first day of school with syllabi and textbook check-outs and boredom and of course a ridiculous workout during lacrosse practice. When Stiles got home he plopped down onto his couch and conked out, exhausted by his day. As he shut his eyes he reflected on the fact that his day had been like any other school day except for two things: one) he was pregnant duh; and two) Scott wasn’t talking to him or he to Scott. Before his brain could come up with the perfect solution like it always did, Stiles was out. 

∆∆∆

When Stiles woke up from his nap he had an afghan covering him. A tad disoriented Stiles rubbed the sleep from his eyes and groaned as his body ached in weird places. Shaking out the tension in his joints Stiles made his way to the kitchen where he heard the clanging of pots and pans and the sizzling of meat, which could only mean one thing: his dad was home and cooking.

“Dad?” He called still groggy from his nap. From the lack of light coming from outside, Stiles guessed it was probably nighttime maybe 7 or 8pm. His dad would probably be heading into work soon for the night shift.

“In here, kiddo.” The sheriff called over the noise he was making. Stiles walked stiffly into the kitchen taking a seat at the table, groaning as he did. “You alright, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” Stiles lied. “…Coach just ran us a little hard today at practice.”

“Maybe you should drink some water.” The Sheriff suggested not looking up from the pound of beef he was cooking.

“Think I will.” Stiles grunted as he rose on sore legs. As he stumbled his way to the cabinet for a cup, Stiles noticed what his dad was cooking. “Whoa, hey…what’s with the beef?”

“While you were out I made a stop at the grocery and picked some up to make my world famous beef stroganoff.”

“Oh sure…” Stiles questioned, “…you catch me sleeping and decide that that gives you free reign to cook whatever you like. I close my eyes for two seconds and you go off the rails…” Stiles grabbed his cup and walked over to the fridge for some ice when the smell of the cooking meat hit him like a brick wall. A wave of nausea washed over him, his stomach dropped and he could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat, but he managed to keep it down.

Trying to maintain the façade of normalcy Stiles resumed talking attempting to play off the moment of sickness. “You sure are a crafty one.”

“Stiles, are you sick?”

“Whattya talking about? I’m fine.”

The Sheriff took a short, evaluating gaze of his only son. “You look pale.”

“Dad, please, pale is my natural hue.”

“You look tired. Have you been sleeping ok lately?”

“When do I ever sleep ok? I’m fine, dad. I’m just…”

“Don’t lie to me, son. I’ve noticed certain things lately and I’m worried.”

“Don’t be, dad. Please. I’m fine, its probably just a bug or stomach flu or something. It’ll pass.”

“You’ll tell me the truth later?”

“Yeah, dad, I promise. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout.”

“Fine, I promise. Nerd’s honor. How about that?”

“I suppose that’ll have to do. And I also suppose you won’t be having any of the stroganoff.”

“That is correct, my good sir!” Stiles said with a great flourish to cover for his lower than normal energy level. He just took a death nap you’d think he’d feel more rejuvenated, but he didn’t. He still felt exhausted, but he didn’t want his dad to worry anymore than he apparently already was. “I shall be partaking in the salad that has been laying all by itself uneaten in the fridge since I bought it the other day. But no longer! It shall be mine! I--”

“Stiles…”

“Sorry, dad.” Stiles apologized for overdoing it like usual. So in a way you could say that overdoing it was Stiles’ way of doing it and therefore not overdoing it at all, but try explaining that to an adult. 

“Its ok, I just…if something’s wrong I want you to feel comfortable telling me. I’m your dad. I’m here to help you and take care of you. I can’t do that if you don’t talk to me. Really talk to me. But...I’ll let it go...for now. Just...promise me you’ll tell me later.”

“I will tell you dad. I double, triple, quadruple promise! There’s nothing wrong and there’s nothing bad going on. I…I just…I need time, is all.”

“Alright. Then, let’s move on…how was school today?”

“Boring. How was work?”

“Uneventful. I patrolled, I ticketed, I did paperwork.”

“Ah the glamorous life of a public servant.”

“Ah, indeed...”

∆∆∆

A week after school started Derek paid Stiles a visit. Stiles was staggering his way to his room exhausted from what he decided would be his last lacrosse practice, maybe _EVER_. For one thing the running back and forth made him nauseous. For another he felt bone tired every day leaving him incapable of his usual household job of cooking, which led his dad to cook a few times and eat out more often than Stiles liked. Lastly, he just felt the practice was getting too rough. Greenburg had come close to body slamming him and that freaked Stiles out so much more than he expected it would. Luckily, Jackson had body slammed Greenburg before anything happened which pissed off Coach since Jackson and Greenburg had been playing on the same side for practice. That was maybe the one out of a dozen little displays of protection that Stiles could actually appreciate.

 _Soooooooo, yep_. Stiles was quitting lacrosse for good or at least until he wasn’t pregnant. Decision made. He was so wrapped up in his mind, reflecting on his day and final decision, Stiles didn’t notice Derek until he flipped his light on and kicked his door closed.

“Holy…!” Stiles almost cursed. After quickly regaining his composure following his sudden fright, Stiles snarkily added, “Whattaya want, my almighty Alpha?”

“Isaac texted, said you were rattled after lacrosse---”

“Don’t worry, my king of kings, I’ve already decided I’m quitting lacrosse. No need to be concerned. Feel free to go about your regular business…whatever it is.”

“Stiles, I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you and the pups were alright.”

“We’re fine...” Stiles said unbelieving. “…but why not just send one of your Betas to come bother me instead of forcing such a hardship on yourself? Or better yet why couldn’t you have just called me or even better yet why not just send a text? A sweet, short text asking if I was ok, was all that was required, so why are you really here?”

Growling under his breath, Derek spoke on a different topic, “Boyd was right. You are getting moodier.”

“I am NOT!” Stiles insisted, rolling his eyes. “I’ve always been this moody. Its part of my charm.”

“No its not.” Derek countered.

“So!?” Stiles raised his voice to prevent any further comment on the subject. “I repeat: whattaya want!?”

“Here.” Derek replied curtly, tossing a bottle of pills to Stiles who not so gracefully caught them. “Take those.”

“What are they?” Stiles asked even as he looked at the bottle’s label.

“Prenatal vitamins. Peter suggested you might need them.”

“Oh, yeah?” Stiles questioned looking at Derek without raising his head. “And why would he suggest such a thing? And more to the point why would you listen to him? The guy’s a creep and oh yeah a murderer.”

“His wife was pregnant when the fire…happened. He knows more about this stuff…” Derek said pointing towards Stiles’ stomach and the pups. “…than I do.”

With a click of his tongue Stiles tossed the pill bottle onto his bed. “Fine. Whatever. But if I start turning evil and plotting to take over the world, don’t be surprised its because Peter Pedowolf had somehow tainted my prenatal vitamins.”

Rolling his eyes, Derek remained silent.

“Is that all?” Stiles pressed.

“How are you?” Derek answered.

“Are you serious?” Stiles was not amused. “If that was all you wanted to ask me I’m still failing to see why you didn’t send a Beta to do the job? Boyd or Isaac or Jackson or Erica or even Peter would’ve come over if you said so.”

“Boyd and Erica are spending time together---”

“Probably making babies of their own.” Stiles quipped. Derek ignored him and continued. “Isaac is spending time with his new foster family---”

“The Monroes, good people. They helped me and Dad out a bit after…anyway, they’re cool.” Stiles said as he crossed his arms. “And tell Isaac that if he gives them any shit, then he’ll have to deal with me.”

“Jackson is on a date with Lydia.” Stiles didn’t say anything in response to that count, so Derek went on. “Peter is off doing whatever it is Peter does.”

“Do you think its wise not to know what he’s up to every moment of every day?”

“I can’t track his every movement Stiles, even if I thought it would help.”

“He’s older than you…more experienced. I see what you mean he could probably out-track you and anyone else in the Pack…”

“Besides if he betrays me…”

“When.” Stiles correctively interjected.

“If, he betrays me…” Derek maintained. “…he’d do it to my face. He wouldn’t skulk around. He doesn’t think I’m worth a good scheming and plotting.”

“You’re not.” Stiles taunted, immediately feeling like a major douche. “At least not yet.”

Derek took the criticism and noted the caveat. For an awkward moment neither spoke, but just stared at each other. Derek took a deep breath and resumed his list. “And Scott---”

“Don’t speak to me about Scott.” Stiles said raising his hands as if he could push the reminder of their fight out of the room. He and Scott had still not reconciled and not from a lack of trying on Stiles’ part.

“He is off with Allison.” Derek pressed on. “So, no, in fact I didn’t have a Beta to send here.”

“Which is why you came yourself. No one left to pawn it off on.”

“Stiles that isn’t---”

“Hey, don’t do me any favors, Alpha mine…don’t let my pregnancy interfere with your nightly routine of scowling at squirrels or scaring off field mice at twenty paces.”

“Stiles---”

“Hey! You did this to me!” Stiles shouted. “You!” He shouted pointing at his Alpha. “Did this!” He yelled pointing at his stomach. “TO ME!” He added plopping down in his desk chair utterly exhausted.

“I didn’t know---”

“Yeah, right.” Stiles retorted. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I didn’t know, Stiles.”

Still not believing his Alpha, Stiles swiveled in his seat, turning away facing his laptop. “But you knew something would happen, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t sure.”

“But you suspected.”

“Yes.”

“Why? Since when?”

“Since I learned Peter had offered you the bite.” Derek answered honestly. “He wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t have something…if you wouldn’t have given him an edge. But I didn’t know.”

After a beat of silence more awkward than the first, Stiles swiveled back around and looked Derek in the eye. “I believe you, ya lummox. I’m still pissed…but I believe you didn’t know this…” Stiles indicated his softening abdomen by raising his shirt and petting himself, “…would happen…”

“I didn’t.” Derek reaffirmed as he closed his eyes. “They sound strong.”

“Yeah well…leeching off their bearer seems to do them fine.” Stiles teased. Softening his demeanor he added, “But yeah, they’re fine…from what I can tell anyway.”

“May I?”

“Why not?” Stiles acquiesced, raising his shirt and spreading his legs, giving Derek the space to do whatever he was going to do.

Taking a couple strides Derek crossed over to Stiles and knelt down. “Thank you.” He said genuinely, looking Stiles directly in the eye.

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles dismissed uncomfortable as he was with the real emotion he sensed coming from Derek. “Just don’t get any fresh ideas…everything below my waist is off limits to you and yours.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but still leaned forward slowly invading Stiles’ personal space. With one last look seeking confirmation, which Stiles provided with a nod, Derek put his nose to Stiles’ belly and sniffed.

Stiles huffed, but didn’t move away. He merely rested his cheek on his upraised hand and looked around the room, trying to find something to focus on besides the lumbering Alpha between his legs and the highly erotic memories it was bringing up. He managed to sit still until Derek started nuzzling his stomach.

“Ah-uh…” Stiles giggled as he squirmed. “Ticklish.” He explained when he felt Derek’s questioning gaze on him. “Keep going, I can control myself now that I know what you’re doing.”

Without a noise Derek resumed his nuzzling, slower this time. Moments passed with nothing else happening, but Derek’s slow movements taking in the scent of his Delta and the Pack’s pups. Absentmindedly Derek began rubbing his chin against Stiles’ skin.

“Hey! Hey!” Stiles warned as he pushed Derek off him and lowered his shirt. “Stubble burn dude!”

“Instinct.” Derek explained without taking his eyes off Stiles’ middle.

“Yeah, whatever gets you through the night, man. Just keep your stubble on your face and not on my stomach, ok?”

Still not looking away Derek nodded once. “I’ll talk to Scott.”

“Woah, what?” Stiles shook his head at the non-sequitor.

“He obviously hasn’t been spending time with you…his scent is missing.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So…he’s Pack and potentially one of the fathers. He should be watching over you like the others are. Those were my instructions.”

“Do you seriously not know?”

“Not know what?” Derek questioned finally raising his eyes to look at Stiles’ face.

“Not know about…you know…me and Scott…”

“What about you and Scott?”

“Good ole, Boyd.”

“Good old Boyd, what?”

“Nothing. He’s just…he’s a nice guy…you know when he’s not all scary and mean.”

“Stiles…” Derek said wanting an answer. “…what about you and Scott?”

“Well…” Stiles answered nervously. “…we sorta…maybe… kinda…had a…thing?”

“What kind of thing?”

“Well…you know how I am…”

“Yes. I do.” Derek said wearily. “So? What happened?”

“There were words…and emotions…and loudness…and more words…”

“You two fought?”

“Fought…” Stiles repeated with air quotes. “…is such a strong word. We more…talked loudly and meanly to each other.”

Derek didn’t say anything, but Stiles could feel his Alpha’s muted anger. A moment passed before Derek echoed himself “I’ll talk to him.” Taking a few steps towards Stiles’ window he added, “I’ll set him straight.”

“No!” Stiles urged as he rose up and surged towards Derek. “Look he and I will deal with this our way just…don’t do anything, ok? Don’t say anything…don’t straighten anything. Capisce?”

For an instant Derek’s eyes glowed red, but then he gave a curt nod. “Fine. You deal with it. I have to go.” With practiced movements Derek stepped towards the window, and made to jump through it, but before he did Stiles had to ask one final question.

“Why didn’t he…I mean why didn’t Peter…you know…bite me? He could’ve…but he didn’t. He gave me the choice, why?”

The room was silent as Derek mulled over an answer. “People like you…special people…they don’t respond to the bite like others…someone like you…can’t be bit by force…you have to choose it...”

“Oh.”

“If he had…bit you even after you said no…your body would’ve rejected the bite.”

“Would I have died? Or be turned into something weird like Lydia and Jackson?”

“No…you wouldn’t have turned into anything or died from it. You would’ve just been you. Nothing would’ve happened.”

Stiles’ mind began to process the information given and Derek took this opportunity to escape. “Take the vitamins.” He ordered as he jumped out the window and ran away.

Alone, for the first time all day Stiles’ mind whirred into high gear. Without being completely conscious of his actions he took the bottle in hand, popped open the lid, and took a vitamin, took two just to be sure.

Swallowing them down, Stiles thought about his life and his predicament with Scott. Like all friends they had fought before, but they had always made up quickly afterwards. They didn’t really have much choice, Stiles was just now realizing: they didn’t have anyone else in their world back then. Just them two and their parents. But now Scott had Pack and he had Allison. He didn’t particularly need Stiles the same way he did before all the wolfy stuff started.

Stiles was so wrapped up in his thinking Stiles didn’t hear his dad’s cruiser pull up or hear his dad stomp up the stairs to the front door, but he did hear the door slam. That startled him out his head and he cursed under his breath. “Fuck.” He was supposed to cook tonight. “Oh, fuck it.” He said to himself and as he walked down to greet his father he yelled. “Hey Dad!? How bout some McDonalds!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Stiles will be telling his dad whats up before too long. I know usually in these kinds of fics he waits to the last possible minute, but I thought in the interest of variety Im gonna have him do it sooner rather than later. In other words before he starts really showing...so stay tuned. I can not make promises of when I will post the next chapter, but I am trying to crank these things out when I get a chance. 
> 
> But believe me when I tell you I have a dozen other unfinished stories on my desktop waiting to be posted...so on one hand Im sorry and on the other...at least this chapter is getting posted...dont hate me!


	4. Episode IV: A New Hope...ish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stiles-pregnancy saga continues with a visit from Coach Finstock, Jackson, Isaac, and Peter, but still no Scott (or sex for that matter, which is odd for me as a writer, but whatever).

For a couple of days Stiles mourned his lacrosse loss, but he knew he had to give it up at least temporarily for the pups. He knew he was doing the right thing, but he was still a tad sad when he walked into Finstock’s messy office.

“Hey, Coach? Can I talk to for a sec?”

“Yeah, yeah gimme a minute, kid.” Finstock answered without looking up from the papers he had in front of him. Stiles hovered by the door for a minute or two, but decided he should probably sit down before he threw up from the anxiety of what he was sure would be a delightful conversation with his coach and also the ever-present nausea.

Time passed slowly as Stiles sat and waited. One minute, two minutes, three minutes…Stiles started fidgeting uncomfortable as he was. More time passed: five minutes, six minutes, seven minutes. “Uhhh…Coach?”

“What, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what?” Finstock replied exaggeratedly as he finally looked up from his papers to glare at the student who was bothering him.   

“Well…” Stiles started off. “…I wanted to tell you that I’m quitting lacrosse…for good.”

A blank stare.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Stiles Stilinski? Sir?”

Another blank stare.

“Bilinski, sir?”

“Oh, yeah sure, Bilinski…how you doin’?”

“I’m fine…” Stiles said in that way you do when you realize someone you’ve been talking to, hasn’t been paying any attention. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m…quitting lacrosse, for good.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” Stiles felt the awkwardness of this whole interaction seep into his bones and his hands started to shake a little and get a bit sweaty. Fumbling some, Stiles unzipped his backpack and took out two pieces of paper.

“Here’s my doctor’s note…” He said handing the document to Finstock.

Deaton had been kind enough to forge his signature after about a zillion years of persuading. He was apparently disappointed in Stiles for taking the bite and being a Delta, but Stiles ignored the weirdo vet and his cryptic gobbledy-gook about wasted potential.

“…And a permission slip I need you to sign saying I can go without p.e. for a semester.”

Finstock took both papers in hand and with only fleeting looks he signed the permission slip. “Gotta STD or something Bilinski?”

“No sir.” Stiles said confidently. “And I believe they’re called STI’s now, sir.”

“Whatever.” Finstock muttered. “Here.”

Grateful for the lack of undue hardship, Stiles took the slip from Finstock and tossed it in his backpack. “Thanks Coach.” He said as he got up and headed towards the door.

“Yeah well…I’m sorry to lose you, Bilinski…you were a good team player.”

Surprised, Stiles turned and faced Finstock. “Thanks Coach.”

With a shrug Finstock, “Yeah well…good luck with your STD, Bilinski.”

“Thanks… I guess.” This was so awkward. “Bye Coach.” Stiles reached for the doorknob, had partly opened the door, and taken a step out of it when Finstock called out his name.

“Bilinski!”

Turning slightly to face his old coach again, Stiles asked “Yeah, Coach?”

“What team were you on? Basketball? Swimming…?”

“Lacrosse, Coach. La-crosse.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Finstock said playing it off like he had known all along and just wanted confirmation. “Lacrosse.”

Slightly disheartened, yet only somewhat surprised, Stiles muttered “Bye, Coach.” And he walked out the door.

*

A couple of weeks passed and gradually Stiles moved into his third month of pregnancy. All of his beloved pregnancy symptoms were still there, but he reveled in the fact that a new one hadn’t joined the fray. The only changes he had noticed was a little weight gain he figured was probably exacerbated by his lack of lacrosse and any other physical education and his cravings for things.

Not particularly weird things, but things he would normally just pass by in favor of one of his preferred foods: like chicken nuggets, Winny’s chicken nuggets to be exact. He hadn’t had them since he was a kid, but one afternoon while Jackson was visiting he had a sudden inexplicable craving for them, and being the pregnant one he of course got them instantly. He didn’t even wait ‘til they got back to his place to start eating them. Right there in the Winny’s drive-through Stiles inhaled the four nuggets and fries like a Hoover vacuum fresh from the box.

Only mildly disgusted as he was quickly becoming desensitized to Stiles’ outrageous eating habits, Jackson pulled into one of Winny’s parking spaces. It seemed to be his destiny to be around when Stiles was hit by a craving. Five other werewolves paid Stiles visits, but Jackson was pretty sure he was the only one buying Stiles copious amounts of food each and every visit. 

“You want more, Sasquatch? Or would you like to head back to your cave now that you’ve scared the locals?”

Sluuurrrrrp. Burrrrp. “I haven’t scared anybody.”

“You’re scaring me right now.”

Rolling his eyes and wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Stiles negated him. “Oh pleeeeease…you’ve seen me eat more in less time with messier results. Do we not remember spaghetti day last week?”

Having a full body shudder Jackson begged, “Let’s not talk about that day. Ever. We all took an oath, including you.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Stiles dismissed, giddily throwing his trash into the back of Jackson’s fancy car. Jackson followed the bag of trash with his eyes and looked distressed as it landed on the floor. “Ooh! Hey! Lets go get an iSea from the Turkey Queen down the street.”

“You haven’t even finished the drink I just bought you.”

“So?”

“So…” Jackson echoed obnoxiously. “…why should I go down he street to that God-forsaken fast food dump and buy you a knock-off Icee when you haven’t even finished the drink I already bought you?”

“Because.” Stiles said annoyed. “I have a craving for an iSea. Why? Because I’m pregnant. Why? Because you and the other ne’er-do-wells in our so-called Pack knocked me up! Why? Because y’all are animals who can’t control themselves around one slightly overheated Delta!”

The two teens stared daggers at each other. For awhile they were evenly matched, but Jackson surrendered first. With a sigh and an eye-roll he restarted his car.

Smug in his victory Stiles put on his seatbelt and settled into his seat. Jackson pulled out of the parking space and made to exit the lot. But before they left the lot, Jackson rolled down his window and with one swift motion tossed Stiles’ drink out his window and onto the pavement.

With a jerk smile on his face Jackson rolled up his window and looked over at Stiles waiting for his reaction. Stiles just shrugged and hmmed in the back of his throat signaling his lack of being impressed. “You’re still gonna buy me an iSea.”

Jackson’s smile fell instantly and an irritated look came over his face as he revved up his car and peeled out into the street with a total disregard for the other cars on the road.

*

It had been two weeks since Stiles and Scott had fought. And it had been two weeks since Stiles and Scott had talked. Stiles thought it was time to put their fight to rest and reconcile, so he sent Scott a white flag text.

_Hey. long time no c. wanna play smash brothers this weekend, just us?_

 

Stiles thought that that was a well thought out, cogent summary of his feelings about the whole thing: let’s forget all about it and move on. He figured Scott wouldn’t answer for awhile, since he was so bad at returning texts or calls or emails and preferred talking in person, so Stiles went about his morning routine of throwing up and random joint pain and nausea before heading out the door for school.

Waiting in the driveway was Peter and his shiny blue hybrid. One look at the guy and Stiles wanted to throw up again or it could’ve been his morning sickness either way he wasn’t terribly excited about this situation.

Derek in his excruciatingly finite wisdom had decided that it was too dangerous for Stiles to drive in his condition and thus the various Pack members with cars were going to shuttle him anywhere he needed to go from now on. Stiles of course was against this latest blow to his freedom, after all he put up with the nightly visitations and constant cuddling and incessant morning sickness, but he’d be damned before he lose his right to drive.

Well, he was damned apparently. To emphasis the finality of his decision Derek had decided to remove Stiles’ jeep’s spark plugs, slash his tires, and crush his keys. Can anyone say overkill? Stiles would’ve been apoplectic when he found his car ravaged as it was, but he had been too tired.

He walked out of school that day and gasped in horror as he saw the damage his poor Betsy had suffered. The other teen wolves sheepishly pretended to be caught up in the beauty of the grass when Stiles turned to glare at them. Except Erica who stared Stiles right back in the eye, smugly satisfied. Stiles was about to rise to the occasion and perhaps use a few choice expletives on his so-called Pack, but the air went out of him. It would take too much energy to curse them out to the proper degree, so he let it go for the moment.

“Give me a ride home, Jackson.” He ordered not even looking at Jackson for confirmation before stalking over to the silver car.

And that was the end of that. From then on somebody with a vehicle and a license appeared in the Stilinski driveway every morning to drive poor, jeep-less Stiles to school. And with the luck of the Irish, today it was Peter. Good ole narcissistic, black-hearted Peter, looking damn creepy with a smile on his face. Stiles hated the man’s smile as well as the guy’s whole being, but with the resignation of the perennially exhausted Stiles swallowed his misgivings and got in the man’s car.

“Good morning, Stiles!” The man said with disingenuous good cheer.

“Ugh! What are you doing here?”

“Its my turn to take you to school.” Peter said too pleased with the situation for Stiles’ comfort. “And this afternoon I’ll pick you up from school and we will spend some quality time together, you and I.”

“Go snort some mountain ash.” Stiles retorted grumpily.

“Aww, what’s wrong pet? Did none of your fuck buddies turned cuddle buddies play with you last night? Are you feeling lonely? Why not ditch school and spend the day with your good friend Scott? Oh, that’s right, you and he are--”

“SHUT UP! OH MY GOD! Why is it that all you evil villains are such long-winded, chatty assholes?! Just shut up and drive me to school!”

With his grin still firmly in place, Peter backed out of the Stilinski driveway and made their way towards the high school at an oddly slow pace. Despite feeling angry and sour Stiles couldn’t sit still, especially with how slowly Peter seemed to be driving.

“I thought fancy cars like these were supposed to get you places faster? Why are you driving so slow? I have to be in class in like half an hour.”

“Well, my pet…” Peter began as he came to a stop at a red light. “…fancy cars like mine are meant to get noticed, and I’d rather not get noticed by a member of your father’s goon squad just for satisfying your impatience.”

“Whatever, dude.” Stiles muttered disbelieving, rolling his eyes to look outside his window at the non-existent cross traffic. It was too early in the morning for Stiles to want to deal with Peter’s big bag of villainous bullshit, he just wanted to get to school, get through his day without wanting to die from exhaustion, and possibly reconcile with Scott. All of those things took all the fucks Stiles had for the day, he didn’t have any to spare on Peter.

“What’s wrong, pet? You seem tired, irritated, moody. Are you sure you want to go to school with this kind of attitude?”

Stiles was about to unleash his awesome death glare when he was himself hit with cramps. He had hoped to avoid getting the cramps at least once this week, but obviously being in Peter’s presence was affecting Stiles in the worst way.

Hissing with pain, Stiles bundled his legs up against his chest and wrapped his arms around himself. The light turned green and Peter drove slowly down a ways before pulling out of the street and onto the shoulder.

“What’s wrong, pet? Cramps?” Peter asked with sincerity, making Stiles’ skin crawl, which did not help his situation at all. The next thing Stiles knew he felt Peter’s hand on the back of his neck rubbing him in what Stiles supposed was meant to be a comforting way.

“What do you want, Peter?” Stiles panted bucking Peter’s hand off.

“You know, pet…” Peter said unaffectedly. “…orgasms are known to lessen the pain of--”

“Oh no you don’t!” Stiles hollered distractedly. “You will not cum on me again. Do you understand?! NEVER EVER AGAIN!”

“What are you talking about, pet?” Peter asked with zero believability.

“I’m talking about what happened last time you visited me!” Stiles answered unamused. “All that dried cum you left on me was itchy and disgusting and you totally did it without _my_ consent! While I was asleep ya CREEPER!!”

Peter merely shrugged. “I have no regrets.”

“I bet you don’t.” Stiles agreed. “But you will never do that to me again. Do you understand?”

“Of course, pet.” Peter affirmed with a bright smile that made Stiles nauseated, or would have if he weren’t already there. “Whatever, you say.”

Stiles was beyond done with Peter and his patronizing tone. Without a thought for the reality of his plan Stiles opened his door and unbuckled his seatbelt.

“What are you doing, pet?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Stiles said through clenched teeth as he lowered his legs again, taking deep breaths as he did.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m always serious.” Stiles defended. “I just play it off with sarcasm and a dramatic tumble for comedic effect.”

With that Stiles grabbed his backpack and slowly stepped out of Peter’s car. He was going to walk the rest of the way to school if it killed him. And considering the amount of pain he was in he figured it would actually kill him, but anything was better than having to be in the same car as Peter ‘Pedowolf’ Hale.

As aggressively as he could Stiles slammed his car door and stumbled his way down the road. With only a few steps taken Stiles heard a car door open and then the Peter caught up with Stiles in nanoseconds.

“Come along now, pet, don’t be difficult. You are in no condition to walk all the way to your insipid high school.”

“I am in perfect condition, thank you very much.”

“No you are not.” Peter countered. “You’re in pain and you’re being stubborn.”

“Oh, am I?” Stiles questioned. “Well…tough. This is happening and its gonna keep happening regardless of what you think.”

“I could force you back into my car.” Peter declared.

“You could.” Stiles nodded as he kept walking slowly forward. “But then you’d run the risk of me setting you on fire again and we both know how much you enjoy being on fire.”

After a moment’s pause Peter responded thusly. “You are beautiful when you threaten people. Truly beautiful.”

For an instant, Stiles stopped in his tracks to look Peter in the eye searching for any hint of falsity in the man’s words or tone. He found none. “You’re psycho.”

“Quite possibly.” Peter replied again with full sincerity. “But you like that in me. You only despise me because you know in your heart of hearts how alike we actually are. There are no boundaries for people like us, Stiles.”

“Except I only kill people who deserve it.”

“So do I.” Peter said.

“Laura.”

A long minute passed in silence as the two men stood their ground, unflinchingly staring at each other. “I have no regrets.” Peter echoed.

“And that’s what makes you so awful, so evil.”

“Do you have regrets, pet?”

“Yes.” Stiles answered without hesitation as he resumed his walking.

“A pity.” Peter responded keeping in step with the pregnant teen. “You could accomplish so much if you didn’t have that pesky conscience standing in your way.”

“My conscience doesn’t stand in my way. It walks beside me reminding me of the choices I made, and the consequences of those choices. I refuse to forget.”

“As do I.” Peter said in a pitiful way. Stiles’ gut reaction aside from wanting to throw up was to comfort the man, but he held himself in check. However real or truthful Peter was being, he was still a murderer and all-around awful person. This conversation needed to end. The two walked in silence while Stiles came up with an out.

“Aren’t creepers like you supposed to stalk their victims as opposed to walk beside them casually? You’re ruining your creeper mystique by talking to me. From now on I’m gonna have to pity you and your sad, hateful life.”

“Save your pity for yourself, pet.” Peter said with only the slightest hint of anger peeking through his carefully managed façade as he slowed his pace and fell behind Stiles.

“That’s better.” Stiles quipped. “And much more in keeping with your villainy.”

No other words were said as Stiles walked the rest of the way to school with Peter trailing behind him. Stiles never looked back towards his “escort” but he could feel Peter watching him and despite everything the fact that Peter was there did make Stiles feel safer.

_Chock that up to pregnancy hormones I guess…_ Stiles thought as he made it to his school’s property line.

∆∆∆

For the rest of the school day Stiles was in a foul mood. He didn’t want to be, but there he was. He resented the fact that talking to Peter could produce such a reaction out of him, but Stiles was nothing if not reactive and obsessive.

As much as he wanted to hate Peter and everything he had done and everything he stood for, Stiles did find himself feeling sorry for the guy: he lived somewhere all alone, no friends, no love life, no relatives to cherish or care for him though Stiles was pretty sure Derek still loved his uncle despite everything, and the only thing that kept Peter going was the idea that one day he would rule the world, or at least Beacon Hills.

Power was Peter’s endgame and always would be and Stiles found that thought particularly sad. Sad, yet understandable. And Stiles preferred not understanding homicidal maniacs with a narcissistic, paranoid personality and sociopathic tendencies as a general rule.  

On top of all that mental/emotional turmoil, Scott was still avoiding Stiles like the plague. Stiles didn’t think they would have an instant reconciliation, but he maybe was hoping they would. Maybe with a quiet underpinning of a sweet leitmotif they would lock eyes across the hallway or cafeteria and give each other a simple nod, an acknowledgment that hey-you-exist-and-I-don’t-hate-you with a little we-still-have-a-ways-to-go-before-we’re-back-to-normal look playing behind the eyes. A boy could hope right?

On top of all that Stiles’ feet hurt from all the unnecessary or very necessary depending on how you looked at it, walking he did that morning. Stiles wasn’t that out of shape, he had only quit practice less than a month ago, so he was resolutely sure his foot pain had something to do with his pregnancy, but there really wasn’t much he could do about that. So anyway…

Other than the completely unacceptable alone time with Peter and the lack of any development in the Scott-broship area and the annoying foot pain, Stiles’ day was uneventful. Classes started, they ended with little to nothing of their content reaching Stiles. Lunch was lunch with the usual awkward, forced conversations between himself and Boyd and Isaac and Erica. Boyd the stonily silent one, Isaac the strangely nice and oddly subservient one, and Erica, a.k.a. Girlwolf, who still hated Stiles’ guts or at the very least his womb. Oh yeah lunch was a hoot-and-a-half.

Then after lunch, more meaningless, empty classes. When the final bell rang and they were dismissed for the day, Stiles wandered to his locker to put up his books. Halfway there it hit him that they had had a book quiz in English today. And he was pretty sure he answered the questions in angst-fueled gibberish. The worst part of it was that he had actually done the reading.

Lost in his own mind and emotions, Stiles slammed his locker closed and jumped slightly when Isaac was suddenly there, bam right in Stiles’ face.

“Shit! Isaac wear a bell or something, geez. What do you want?”

“I’m coming home with you.” Isaac said a tad too excitedly for Stiles’ taste. Something was up.

“I thought today was Peter’s day?”

“It was, but Derek texted and said Peter was gone, so…”

“Peter’s gone? Like gone, gone? Gone for good gone? Or gone to Hawai’i gone?”

Isaac shrugged leaving Stiles answerless. Running his hand through is hair, Stiles sighed and moved on.

“So you’re coming home with me, huh? How are we supposed to get there? Bus? Plane? Have cryptologists created some kind of invisible wolf-car complete with glowing red headlights and retractable bumper fangs?”

“We’re taking Jackson’s car.” Isaac replied ignoring the hyperbole.

“But doesn’t Jackson have lacrosse practice? Don’t you for that matter?”

“I told Coach that I have to babysit my new foster-sister. He went on some rambling speech about how his parents took in kids and one of them was named Darcy or something and she was the one he lost his virginity to or something. I kinda tuned him out a little in the middle, but he gave me the ok. He said foster families are just as real as real families.”

“Yep…” Stiles grinned for the first time that day. “Sounds like the Coach I know and love-slash-am-perennially-disturbed-by. But what about Jackson? I doubt Coach is gonna let his Co-Captain miss practice for anything less than death, so who’s gonna drive?”

“I am.” Isaac said confidently.

“You are? Do you even know how to drive?”

“Yes.” Isaac answered the ‘duh’ being heavily implied. “I used to operate the machines at my dad’s cemetery.”

“Ok…” Stiles replied uncomfortable with this whole idea. “And Jackson just gave you his keys? He’s just gonna trust you with his shiny, expensive Porsche?”

“Normally, no. But we’re Pack now, so…”

“So Derek Alpha’ed him to.”

“Pretty much.” Isaac affirmed.

This time Stiles shrugged.

“Ok, Curlywolf, take me home. But be forewarned I haven’t been in a good mood all day and I’ve been too exhausted by carrying y’all’s pups to bother with household chores like cleaning or laundry.”

“That’s ok.” Isaac said undeterred. “I can do your laundry if you like?”

“Are you seriously offering to do my laundry? Why? Has Derek given you some kind of be-a-servant order, because I can talk with him if you like. Well not with him per se more like at him, the man’s practically a mute--”

“No, Stiles. Derek didn’t give me any orders other than what he already has. I just…I used to do the laundry when I lived with my dad. I really wouldn’t mind doing it for _you_.”

Stiles refused to sniffle at the sweetness and cuteness of the blonde boy teenwolf offering his skills garnered over years of abuse.

“Well…only if you want to. Don’t do it on my account.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a favor if I did it for purely selfish reasons. Some of it does have to be done for you and your account.”

“Hey there Curlywolf don’t get fresh with me. Sarcasm is my thing. Sass is _my_ supernatural power. You got your own.”

Isaac put his hands up in surrender as they walked out the double doors into the school parking lot. Jackson’s Porsche was right up front.

“Hey, let’s stop by Turkey Queen and get some linner.”

“Linner?”

“The meal between lunch and dinner? Anyway, we can buy some food and leave it in the car for Jackson to find later. It’ll be like an Easter egg hunt for good, ole Jerkwolf. Whatta say?”

“Won’t he be mad?”

“Yeah, but what’s he gonna do? Kill you? Please…the kids an old softy at heart. He’ll get over it. Come on do it for me. I have so little in life that makes me happy anymore, besides making Jackson’s miserable. Come on…come on…”

Isaac looked unsure, but all his instincts were telling him to do as his Delta wanted except for the two or three that were going off inside his head screaming ‘Danger Will Robinson! Danger! Danger!’

“I guess…”

Stiles did an air-bump in victory as the two teens got into Jackson’s car. Maybe his day wasn’t going to be a total lose...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the next chapter will be a direct continuation of the story, so this is kinda a cliffhanger I guess. Also I there might be a little sex in the next chapter. Not gratuitous amounts, but I think there will be some.


	5. The One Where Stiles Tells His Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up where the last left off with Stiles and Isaac about to spend the afternoon together. Like I promised there is a little sex in this chapter, tween Stiles and Isaac. 
> 
> Afterwards Stiles and Derek talk about the pups and then Stiles and his dad talk about the pups.

It was almost five in the afternoon when the boys made it over to Stiles’ house after stopping at Turkey Queen for linner and then the mall’s game store, because Stiles had to go peruse the latest releases and see if any passed muster. They didn’t just like Isaac said they wouldn’t but Stiles coerced Isaac into going anyway, playing his hey-I’m-pregnant-so-do-as-I-say-card for the gazillionth time that day. The most memorable example being when Stiles made Isaac buy an extra burger at Turkey Queen one that he hid, the pieces of it he didn’t eat at least, around Jackson jerk-jock’s car. Pregnant-Stiles was truly evil.

Regardless, when they pulled into the driveway, Stiles jolted awake from his post-meal, post-shopping dozing, unbuckled his seatbelt, but then didn’t make to get out of the car. Isaac killed the engine and looked over at Stiles questioningly.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing.” Stiles sighed dramatically. “My feet hurt is all.”

“Well…” Isaac the ever-unsure offered, “…after we go inside I could give you a foot rub?”

“Or…” Stiles countered. “Instead of making the Pregnant One walk you could carry me into the house _and_ _then_ give me a foot rub. Huh? Whattaya say, Cutiewolf? For me?”

Stiles made with the cow eyes and lip pout and even ran his fingers up and down Isaac’s forearm. All in all he was making Isaac very uncomfortable and Isaac didn’t like feeling that way. Ducking his head in acquiescence, Isaac took the keys out of the ignition, opened his car door, and mumbled an, “Okay.”

“Woohoo!” Stiles squawked opening his own door, waiting. Once Isaac made it to the other side of the car Stiles started to make grabby hands and little whining noises. Isaac almost wanted to say something about it, make some little joke, but decided against it. He would always lose in a word fight with Stiles and he knew it. So heaving a sigh, Isaac scooped Stiles up into his arms with a grumble.

“Have you put on weight?” Isaac quipped, almost unconsciously, the words slipping out of him as he grunted trying to balance the squirming Stiles in his arms.

“Hey!” Stiles screamed insulted. “Is that supposed to be some kind of sick, make-fun-of-the-Pregnant-One joke?! Do we not remember Rule Seventeen?!”

“No Pack member shall make any disparaging comment or joke at the expense of the Pregnant One including but not limited to: his looks or his moods or his eating habits or his pups or his person whatsoever under penalty of death and/or lose of cuddle time.” Isaac recited verbatim from memory like every member of the Pack could, except probably Scott.

“Oh. Well.” Stiles said slightly surprised at Isaac’s perfect memory. Isaac knocked the car door closed and walked gracefully up the driveway to the front door as Stiles declared his intentions. “Since you’re giving me foot rubs and whatnot I guess we can forgo the punishment required for such an offense and forget all about it, yadda yadda yadda.”

“Thank you.” Isaac said facetiously.

“Yeah well, don’t tell anyone else. If word gets out that I, the Almighty Pregnant One, didn’t smite down the non-believer for his heresy, some people a.k.a. Jackson might start getting ideas.” Stiles said fishing the front door keys from his pocket.

“Like revenge?”

“Yes, Cutiewolf, like revenge. The guy’s an ass.” Stiles unlocked the door and Isaac pushed it open walking through the doorway without a problem despite the extra bulk.

“I promise not to tell.”

“Good. Now take me to my room! I want my foot rubs.” Stiles commanded. Since he suggested it Isaac didn’t argue with Stiles’ order, climbing the stairs up to Stiles’ room two at a time. “You seem oddly eager to get me upstairs, Mister Curly-Wolf. What’s up?”

“Up? Nothing’s up.” Isaac lied horribly. Stiles pounced on that insincerity like a cheetah on a gazelle.

“You’re lying, something is definitely up. Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me. Tell. Me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” Isaac evaded as he stepped into Stiles’ room. He placed Stiles on the edge of his bed with a slightly less than gentle plop.

“Yes, there is.” Stiles argued. “You’re excited. Something has gotten you excited, I can feel it.”

“I’m not excited…I just…I’m just…I just wanna finish so I can go.”

“You’re lying and I can tell. You’re almost as bad at it as Scott. Now tell me what’s got you excited. Was it carrying me? Did it make you feel like a real he-man hero? In which case you should be a fireman.” Isaac gave Stiles classic bitch-face, which Stiles interpreted as a no. Isaac kneeled down and started untying Stiles’ shoe one knot at a time. “So it wasn’t the carrying, is it the foot rubbing? Does that get you excited? Are you _that_ desperate to rub a pregnant guy’s feet?”

“No, it’s not the foot rub thing.” Isaac rejected as he slipped one of Stiles’ shoes off, the sock with it. “I used to give foot rubs to my mom, all the time…I, she always liked them…said they helped so I just figured--”

“That you’d be nice and offer? Yeah, yeah…you’re a real angel, Curlywolf. Tomorrow your halo arrives. That’s not it, but something has you excited.”

“Nope, nothing. You’re wrong.” Isaac denied working on the knots in Stiles’ other shoelaces. Stiles was unconvinced. Playing off a hunch, a simple and sudden knowing in his gut, he raised his bare foot up to Isaac’s face.

“I really don’t think I am.” Stiles assured the blonde teen who was seemingly suddenly mesmerized by the sight of Stiles’ foot so close to his face. Isaac absentmindedly licked his lips, wanting. Looking up at Stiles’ face he pleaded, “Please, Stiles, don’t--”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody. Trust me, this is only between you and me. Just like Jackson’s obsession with my nips or Derek’s obsession with my scent. This is you and me. And I know you need it, so…don’t be scared. I won’t judge.” 

Isaac’s gaze went back to Stiles’ feet. Taking the initiative Stiles brought his foot right up to Isaac’s lips and ran his big toe across the velvety smooth skin there. Isaac’s entire body shuddered as he clenched his eyes shut and sucked Stiles’ big toe into his mouth. The look that came over Isaac’s face can only be described as angelic, like he had found heaven and Stiles was proud that he could do that for his Packmate, for each of his Packmates when he wanted to you know when he wasn’t fighting with them or being annoyed by them or actively trying to annoy them. This was almost as satisfying as the prank he was pulling on Jackson, almost. It would be equal to it if Stiles didn’t find the whole his toe being sucked on sensation ticklish and totally weird. But being in the magnanimous mood he was, Stiles didn’t say anything about it to the blonde kid worshipping his big toe.

After a while, the feeling in the room shifted and Stiles was in disbelief at how erotic this moment had turned and at how quickly it had too. Isaac seemed happily ensconced in his own little world and Stiles did his best not to interfere. He didn’t want to shock the poor kid back into reality, the reality where he was an abused teen wolf with a pregnant teen wolf’s big toe in his mouth. The whole thing sounded ludicrous to Stiles, he couldn’t help thinking that life was like a joke told by an idiot who could never keep the story straight, just adding words here losing words here until the joke wasn’t funny anymore because the whole story didn’t make any sense. A foot kink was not Stiles’ idea of a just and glorious expression of the infinite wonder in the Universe. It just all felt weird to him, weird and yet erotic at the same time like watching cartoon porn of a devil fucking an angel. It was hot, but who decided to draw this stuff and why? Do we really _need_ to see a guy with a double-headed dick fuck a guy with bird wings on his back and three sets of nips? Not that Stiles had ever seen anything like of the sort, no not ever. Regardless, Stiles felt odd about the whole situation, but since he had put the guy through a lot just by being his pregnant self, he decided to do this for Isaac, so he was going to stick it out until it either stopped being weird or Isaac opted out himself. It was the least he could for a guy who didn’t seem to have much in his life.

Shaking his head Stiles jerked himself mentally back into the moment, this moment with Isaac, and he tried to focus himself on staying focused on Isaac and his pleasures like when he used to meditate way back after his mom had died. His therapist had thought visualization meditations would be a good method of coping with his loss and his paralyzing panic attacks. It didn’t work out that way so much, but Stiles had taken from it what he could: the ability however limited to focus and refocus his attention on something else. In this case it was Isaac sucking on his big toe…and now the ones next to it.

Weird. It still felt weird, but looking down at Isaac, Stiles was transfixed momentarily. There was something highly sexual about seeing Isaac’s mouth opening wider to accommodate more and more of his foot. He caught himself wondering how much of his foot Isaac could fit in there. Was that weird? As if reading his Delta’s mind Isaac took all five of Stiles’ toes into his mouth and quite a bit of foot with them all at once.

“Holy shit.” Stiles blurted out unconsciously, unable to stop the words from tumbling around his head and out his mouth as he gazed down at Isaac with an almost awe-filled look. Caught off guard Isaac locked eyes with Stiles for a microsecond and then pulled his mouth off Stiles’ foot with a wet plop blushing scarlet at his heretofore unexplored kink coming out to play in the form of a wanton display of affection for a foot.

“Sorry!” Stiles exclaimed ashamed of himself. “I didn’t mean to ummm…well…yeah. I just thought it was kinda cool…or hot…or some other temperature that’s supposed to mean I enjoyed the fuck outta watching what you uhh…your lips stretch around my…Sorry. I’m a jerk.”

“No you’re not. I just…gotta little lost in it I guess. I’ve never…tried that before, so…Thanks for going with it as much as you did.”

“Oh you don’t have to thank me, please. I don’t deserve it. I didn’t do anything. It was all you.”

“Not _my_ foot.” Isaac pointed out.

“Right you are, good sir! But still…I mean you didn’t have to stop. We can ya know…do it again…if you like.”

“No, thank you.” Isaac refused. “I umm…I liked it, but I think I prefer a different kind of foot. No offense.”

“Oh. None taken. I guess.”

“But uh…I was thinking maybe there’s a way I can pay you back, for letting me do this. You know I got a thing for having things in my mouth, for sucking on things, so I figure maybe there’s a different part of your body that maybe you’d want in my mouth.”

“Wha—You—Ar—Am I? Whoa.” Stiles stuttered, completely taken aback by Isaac’s offer. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Not beating around the bush, Isaac replied, “You have a nice dick, I have a nice mouth. I like to suck on things and from what I recall you like having your dick sucked…”

“What guy doesn’t? I mean I guess if you were asexual or something you probably wouldn’t, bu--”

“And I do owe you.” Isaac said over Stiles cutting off his ramble at the onset. “So yeah…I’m serious.”

For the first time ever, Isaac had Stiles’ undivided mental and physical attention. He wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He hadn’t even looked at his dick in like three weeks, he cleaned it in the shower, but kept his hands off it otherwise. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d wanted to touch it, which suddenly struck Stiles as strange since he had been jerking the shit out of his dick three or four times a day since he was twelve-and-a-half. Now faced with the prospect of getting off Stiles realized just how badly he _needed_ to get off. His blood was heading south in a hurry.

“Ok.” Stiles awkwardly agreed, not moving an inch, staying perfectly still for maybe the sixth time in his entire life. Taking the lead Isaac reached up and undid Stiles’ belt whipping it off Stiles’ prone body. Then he unbuttoned Stiles’ jeans and unzipped them, much to Stiles’ growing relief as they had quite quickly become unbearably tight for obvious reasons.

Before continuing Isaac looked up at Stiles one last time. “Are you sure you’re cool with this?”

“Dude, don’t leave me hanging, please! I beg you! I’m a desperate man!”   

Chuckling at Stiles’ hyperbole Isaac leaned down and sucked in the head of Stiles’ dick. Leaning back on his arms Stiles moaned shakily. As Isaac kept sucking in more and more of Stiles’ dick, Stiles threw his head back and proclaimed, “SHIT! This is _so_ much better than a foot rub!”

With Isaac’s mouth doing obscene things to his dick, Stiles was pretty much a mess of horny, word-addled hormones. “Oh my god…! I…wow…have you been practicing? Shit! Isaac…” Using what little brainpower he had left, Stiles grabbed a hold of some of Isaac’s surprisingly soft curls. Taking this as a sign of encouragement the blonde went into double-time causing Stiles to fall apart that much faster.

“Oh god…! I…you _have_ gotten better at this…I’m not…usually I last…Oh god your mouth!” Isaac swallowed Stiles down to the root letting the pregnant teen fuck his throat. That sent Stiles into orbit, he swore that for a minute there he was literally floating out of his body looking down on himself getting head from his Packmate and former nuisance Isaac Lahey. It was all too surreal and over very quickly, embarrassingly quickly.

“Isaac…! Dude…It’s been…so long…I…oh god…I don’t even remem…fuck! I can’t…uh…uh…Shit! Fuck! GOD!” And with those immortal last words Stiles was cumming down Isaac’s throat pumping out a load like he hadn’t done in months. Not that it mattered to Isaac; he was happily swallowing every ounce of cum shooting out of Stiles’ dick. The curly-haired teen wolf was proud of all the practicing he had done that had led to this moment. He liked the taste of Stiles, had since that night, the first time he’d sucked off the Pack Delta.

When he regained sentience again, Stiles looked down at Isaac who’d let Stiles’ dick slip from his mouth as it softened. Their eyes met and Stiles leaned down and pulled Isaac up into a kiss. Stiles could taste himself on Isaac’s tongue as they explored each other orally for the first time since that night.

It was a sweet kiss despite how dirty it might have seemed from the outside. It was the first time since that night that Stiles felt a genuine connection with the Beta, and he had to admit it wasn’t so bad being friendly with the guy, especially if he kept getting good head like that.

Pulling away to catch a breath, letting go of Isaac’s head Stiles quipped, “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Isaac stood up straight with a small smile dancing across his face, “Guess not.”

“You _guess_? I **_know_**. Thanks for the head, Curly-Wolf.” Stiles teased smiling back at the blonde. Stiles returned his dick to its resting place and zipped up. His eyes swept up Isaac’s body and it was then that Stiles noticed the wet spot on the front of Isaac’s jeans. Isaac followed Stiles’ eyes and blushed embarrassed at coming in his pants like an inexperienced, overexcited teenager.

“I guess I was excited.” Isaac joked whispering hoarsely. Stiles chuckled under his breath at that call back, and slowly stood on his own two feet.

“Well…you can borrow a pair of my pants. It’s the least I can do after you gave me such great head.”

“Are you sure they’ll fit. You tend to wear--”

“I know I tend to wear skin-tight, uber skinny jeans. However, I also own a pair that my aunt bought me for Christmas and they are _so not_ for me. Not in style, or fit, or size.” Stiles fished around in one of his drawers and when he found the pair he was talking about he tossed them over to Isaac who held them in his hand.

“Um…I…I’ll also need uh…um under--”

“Of course!” Stiles said duhhing at his own forgetfulness. He fetched a pair of boxers he couldn’t fit into either and tossed them to Isaac as well. “You can change in the bathroom if you like. My Dad won’t be here for another hour or two, so there’s no rush. I mean I don’t want you to feel like you have to dash outta here. I don’t wanna be the kinda douche who uses a guy to get off and then kicks them out onto the street.”

“No worries.” Isaac rasped. “I should go soon anyway to take Jackson his car.”

“Oh right, I forgot.” Stiles remembered, smiling. “Promise you won’t tell where I hid the burger bits?”

“I promise.” Isaac responded quietly, ducking out of the room to change. When Stiles heard the bathroom door shut he whipped out his phone and checked for any messages, he had none. Scott hadn’t gotten back to him all day, and he had checked his phone religiously despite promising himself he wouldn’t. Disheartened just a tad from that, Stiles decided he wouldn’t let this tiff with Scott wreck his post-blowjob buzz, so he sent a text to Derek: _Hey! Buy Isaac some new clothes ya cheapskate! He’s Pack he shouldnt have to wear hand-me-downs._ _Dont be a douche!_

Putting his phone on his nightstand Stiles didn’t quite know what to do with himself so he sat down in his desk chair and whirled around in it for a bit like he hadn’t done since before this whole debacle. He couldn’t go too fast cause he was pregnant and too much motion too fast could make him upchuck his entire supper, which would be gross considering the multitudes he had eaten.

Coming back dressed in Stiles’ borrowed clothes, Isaac asked, “Would you mind if I threw away these soiled clothes here? If I take them in the car they’ll stink up the place with my uh…scent and Jackson would kill me cause _I_ don’t have pregnancy protection rights like you do.”

“Oh, sure. There are trash bags under the sink. You can throw them in one and then throw the bag out in the big trash can in the back of the house.”

“Thanks.”

“No, thank you. I hadn’t cum in a while, and I realize now how much I missed it. If you ever need a toe to lick or a dick to suck on, feel free to call or text, I’m open for business.”

Isaac smirked and then headed out going down the stairs and taking care of his garbage. Stiles went and laid down on his bed. He only meant to close his eyes for a minute, but when he opened them again it was dark out and the house was quiet. He groggily got up and wandered to the kitchen for a snack. He passed his dad asleep on the couch, case files splayed on the coffee table. Inadvertent sleeping seemed to be a family trait.

After grabbing something out of the fridge and devouring it on site, Stiles threw an afghan over his dad then went back up to his room possibly, perhaps, sneaking a file or two up the stairs with him.    

∆∆∆

Three days later, Stiles got a text. Assuming it was Scott, Stiles almost bounced over to where his cell sat on his desk and swiped it open to see that it was in fact a text from Derek.

_Went to store. He bought a lot of scarves. Why do I listen to you?_

It took a minute for Stiles to understand what Derek was talking about, but once he did he laughed out loud for two seconds before responding: _Cuz Im always right._

Thirty minutes later Stiles got another text from Derek: _Coming over. Be there in 10._

Confused Stiles sent him a reply: _Why?_

Stiles didn’t get a reply and didn’t get a visitor either. Waiting a full twenty minutes for his guest, Stiles sent Derek another text. _I thought you were coming over?_

No response. Five minutes later…still no response. Ten minutes later…still no response and Stiles was beginning to freak out with all kinds of what ifs. What if one of the Argents went rogue and kidnapped Derek or killed him outright? Wouldn’t be the first time an Argent went crazy and shot up the werewolf community. What if he got into a car accident or some other random, normal-human disaster? What if he got attacked by some ravenous supernatural beast like a Yeti or a man-eating Venus flytrap? What if he got sucked into some weird parallel universe where dogs have wings and people puff into thin air when they fart? What if…What if…What if…Stiles tried to call Derek, but like always it was a waste of time. He left a message for Derek to call him back, but he doubted the man would, he seemed proud almost of his isolationist, man-from-the-mountains bullshit, too much so to deign to be reachable by cell phone.

Cutting to the chase Stiles texted Isaac. _Hey, is Derek ok?_

Another ten nail biting minutes passed before he got this splendid example of human communication: _He’s fine._

Stiles wanted to scream in frustration at the lack of communication skills in the members of his Pack. Sending another text to Isaac Stiles asked: _Is he there with you? Can I talk to him?_

_He says he’ll talk to you when he comes over later._

Exasperated, Stiles asked: _When? WHEN is he coming over!?_

He didn’t get a response from Isaac at Stiles was about ready to flip some tables over. Five minutes later he gets a text from Derek: _At ten. I’ll be over at ten like I said._

Stiles hates his Alpha sometimes and sometimes the dunce deserves it. _FUCK YOU! I hope a Venus flytrap eats you for dinner!_

*

At 10:18pm Stiles got an unwelcomed visitor. Derek flew in from Stiles’ open window and was met by silence. Stiles was sitting quietly, with his arms across his chest, appearing very unhappy.

“I hate you.” Stiles greeted, coldly.

“So what else is new?” Derek retorted.

Choosing to not respond to the question proposed Stiles instead took out his cell phone and read from it, “Coming over stop. Be there in ten stop. Do you deny sending this text to me at 2:24pm this afternoon?”

“What’s going on, Stiles?”

“Don’t try and change the subject.” Stiles stated firmly. “Did you or did you not send me this text reading as I have quoted already?”

“I guess so.”

“Well then maybe we need to have a lesson in English. Texting someone that you’ll see them in ten usually means you will show up where they are in ten minutes so they’d better hide their dildos and shit. Did you show up 2:34pm, today? No. And why?”

“I meant to text _at_ ten, I’ll see you _at_ ten.”

“Yeah I know that _now_ , but what am I a mind-reader? How can I know you meant to say _at_ ten if you don’t correct yourself and text me back! Why do you even _HAVE_ a cell phone! GOD ALMIGHTY!”

The two of them faced each other in stony silence. Derek had anticipated having to go through an inquisition so he was once again unprepared to handle the shit Stiles dished out. A good five minutes passed before Stiles’ leg started jiggling and Derek knew that one way or the other Stiles was going to have to get up and move around probably forgetting or at least moving past whatever it was that was annoying him.

“Do you accept all accountability and responsibility for this vile underhanded scheme to fray my nerves and annihilate my wits?”

“Stiles…”

“Don’t you Stiles me! Do. You. Accept. The. Charges?”

“Yes fine, I accept them, now what the fuck is going on?”

“I’m pregnant, moody, and overbearing that’s what’s going on. And at least two of those things are your fault! So—PFFT!”

Rolling his eyes, Derek decided to let this all go and start over. “I took Isaac clothes shopping and he bought the entire store’s stock of scarves because apparently they’re in right now. Now why did you have me do this?”

“He was over the other day and I noticed that some of the clothes he was wearing looked a little old, so him being Pack and all I thought that maybe his Alpha should try and take care of him? Provide him with something other than commands. Cause I don’t know about you, but I tend to like people who buy me shit, helps build a sense of togetherness, something you would think you would know a lot about, but yeah…you’re you, so…”

“Well now he’s fully stocked for when Hell literally freezes over. And how are you? And the pups?”

“We’re fine.” Stiles sighed wearily. “Tired all the time. Hungry all the time. Uncomfortable all the time, but otherwise WE are fine and dandy. So what made you wanna come over?”

“I wanted to talk about what happened between you and Peter, and maybe you and Scott too. There are rifts in my Pack all over the place because of this.” Derek pointed at Stiles’ abdomen accusingly, and Stiles reflexively put his hand on his stomach as if to protect his pups from Derek’s rude pointing. “So what happened when Peter drove you to school?”

“Nothing.” Stiles lied not wanting to talk about the incident. He was still conflicted with is conflicted feelings on the matter and he doubted very much that talking to Derek would make any difference, so he lied. “I just told him that if I knew for sure these pups were his I’d abort them.”

“Shit. Stiles. Why would you say something like that?”

“Because it’s true. If I knew for a fact these babies were his, I’d have to get rid of them. I’m not bringing the next generation of crazy, homicidal Hale into the world. Ok? I couldn’t live with that. And neither could you, for that matter.”

Ignoring that last sentence Derek moved on. “And what about you and Scott? You tell him the same thing?”

“No! Why? Has he said anything about it to you?”

“No. In fact he’s been avoiding me and the rest of the Pack. He doesn’t come to Pack meetings, he ignores Boyd, Erica, Jackson, and Isaac when you all are at school. He refuses to meet with me in private to discuss what the hell is going on and he never answers his phone anymore. So what the hell happened between the two of you that’s causing him to go rogue?”

“He’s not going rogue, ya drama queen he’s just…we’re just…see when two people love each other--”

“Did you two sleep together?”

“What?! No! I mean not since that night, but you were there for that. You know about that. Why would you think that?”

“Well you said ‘when two people love each other’ which is the start of every bad explanation of sex parents give their kids and he’s clearly upset about something so what else am I supposed to think?”

“If you would let me finish a sentence one and awhile you would’ve heard me say that when two people love each other, there comes a point when they are so close as to be too close and things get said and shit brought up and tempers flare and stuff goes wrong. It’s called a fight. It happens when people have known each other all their lives. Its normal and _WE_ will deal with it ourselves so butt out of it.”

Derek out his hands on his hips in the classic this-is-so-not-over pose, but he didn’t say anything more. If no one was going to talk to him then he couldn’t fix the problem, at least not yet anyway. He’d have to come up with a plan, to get them in a room together or something, but until he had a plan not interfering seemed best. So he held his tongue and another awkward silence filled the room.

Almost ten minutes passed before Stiles had to talk, he had a burning question that needed answering. “So…not to be a spoiler-sport or anything, but how exactly are these puppies gonna…ya know…come out of me?” Stiles asked nervously, scared of the answer, but knowing he needed to know. Derek stood as stoically and silently as ever almost like he hadn’t heard any of Stiles’ words. The lack of a response was unnerving, which sent Stiles into a ramble. “Cause ya know I don’t really have the parts to ya know…” Stiles gestured his meaning and skipped on to the next part. “…I mean my God! Why didn’t I ask this before?! Kinda critical to the whole gonna give births to pups thing…they eventually have to come out, right? I guess I’ve been so lost in the whole I’m pregnant thing I haven’t really taken the time to think about what happens after…I mean are they gonna come shooting outta my ass or are y’all gone cut’em outta me…I mean what’s the procedure here?”

“I don’t know.” Derek said quietly.

“You…don’t know?” Stiles questioned skeptically. “Like you don’t-know-don’t know, or you-wanna-tell-me-but-you-don’t-know-how-don’t know, or and I’m guessing you’re gonna go for your usual: I’m-just-not-gonna-tell-you-cryptic-bullshit-evasive-don’t know. Why don’t you know? Why won’t you tell me? Am I gonna die?! Are they gonna explode outta my stomach like in _Species II?_!”

“Stiles, calm down.” Derek ordered.

“Calm down!? You’re telling _ME_ to _CALM DOWN!?_ ” Stiles was going into hysterics and Derek looked like a kid who just broke his mom’s favorite vase: terrified of punishment and wishing he had thought ahead before breaking the thing. Trying to rectify the situation in the most expedient manner possible, Derek rushed over to Stiles’ side and hugged him close. This was a weird enough gesture to completely mystify Stiles into silence at least for a moment.

“OH GOD I’m going to DIE, aren’t I?” Stiles blubbered, tears threatening to fall, breath already starting to hiccup.

“You are NOT going to _die_ , Stiles.” Derek said firmly still hugging the teen close to him. “I don’t know how this whole giving birth process is going to go down, but I _know_ you won’t die.”  

“Yeah?” Stiles sniffled. “How do you know? What are you psychic now?”

“No. I just…I’ve never met a person as stubborn as you, Stiles. I know you won’t just give up and let yourself die.”

“Well…that’s true, but I don’t think I can stubborn myself into not dying if my pups claw their way outta me or something.”

“They’re _not_ going to _claw_ their way out of you.” Derek refuted, putting emphasis on the wrong words.

“Oh, but they are going to push themselves outta me, right? I mean that’s what happens during childbirth: the babies push themselves out of the mother.”

“I think it’s more the mother’s body pushes t--”

“Derek!” Stiles snapped to shut the man up. “It’s only…I just don’t like not-knowing. Not-knowing isn’t what I’m known for.”

“I know.”

“And so when I ask you what you know and you drop a fuckin’ I-don’t-know bomb on top of me like you’re the fucking Germans and I’m London during the fucking Blitz I start to panic and freak-out ‘cause you’re supposed to know these things. You’re the _born_ werewolf.”

“Peter--”

“Oh please, like I’m really gonna trust Peter to a) tell me the truth and b) not twist everything to his own advantage. Yeah ok. Besides he and I aren’t talking at the moment.”

“Yes, I know. Whatever happened between you two, really got to him. He left town after dropping you off at school.”

“Yeah well…” Stiles didn’t have the heart to tell him that Peter hadn’t dropped him off at school, that he and Stiles had argued before the actual dropping-off portion of the day could occur, so he kept his mouth shut for once. He and Peter would have to not-reconcile in their own special way. “Why _don’t_ you know about this whole thing? Is it some kind of werewolf conspiracy that you weren’t let in on? Are we being punished for your incompetence, _yet again_? Did you miss a class at the how-to-be-an-Alpha seminar? Does yo--”

“Stiles, I don’t know anything about ‘this whole thing’, because this whole thing is very rare. I told you that this only happens to certain people, under certain conditions.”

“Yes, yes I remember, but are you telling me that over the course of your entire life you have never heard about or read about or googled anything about male Deltas giving birth?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to die.” Stiles deadpanned.

“You are not going to die, Stiles because I won’t let you die.” Derek said resolutely.

“Oh, how very comforting.” Stiles said bleakly. “My completely incompetent Alpha isn’t going to let me die. I guess that settles it.”

Wishing he was anywhere else doing something anything else, Derek rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. “I’ll look into it, Stiles.”

You’ll look into it?” Stiles asked incredulously. “You really know how to comfort a guy, Derek. I think you missed your true calling. You shoulda been a nurse.”

Derek flinched internally, but did a remarkable job of not flinching physically, but Stiles still knew something was up. He knew, but he decided to let it go for the moment to focus on more important things. “So, how are we gonna get these bad boys outta me?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll--”

“Look into it…” Stiles interjected. “Yes you said that.” They stood in the middle of Stiles’ room, Derek’s arms still around his Delta, and Stiles’ arms still by his side. But after a moment of silence, Stiles caved a wrapped his arms around Derek too. A few seconds into that however freaked Stiles out more than the whole childbirth conversation. “So…can we like end this now? This whole hugging you thing is making my head hurt.”

They pulled away from each other and Derek took a couple steps back giving Stiles some space.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the whole scenting me thing, and ya know you snapping me out of a panic attack thing, but um…hugs are not your specialty. Leave hugging to the Betas for now, huh, big guy?”

Derek found himself a bit hurt by Stiles’ rejection, but he quickly suppressed his reaction. He was going to analyze that when he was alone and didn’t have his Delta staring at him like he knew anyway. Wracking his brain to try and find a suitable change of topic Derek asked, “What’s _Species II?”_

That question did the trick, sending Stiles into a ten-minute long spiel about how he couldn’t believe Derek had never seen _Species II_ , how the movie was destined to change his life, and just how bad the sequel was compared to its predecessor, but better than the subsequent sequels. At the end of it all Stiles turned to Derek and said, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Changing the subject. Getting my out of my own head. Letting me ramble about something ridiculous to avoid having to continue thinking about my impending doom.” Derek was going to deny the impending doom comment, but Stiles cut him off before he could. “Yeah, yeah I know, I know I’m not _doomed_. I got my broody, failwolf Alpha on my side ‘looking into it’. I’m sure everything will be ok.”

“It will be.” Derek affirmed. “And I am not a ‘failwolf’ whatever that is.”

“Yeah you are, Derek. Yeah you are. And the more you deny it the more true it is. So…”

“I can’t win, can I?”

“Can’t win? Dude, you can’t even play the game.”

“I’m going to go.”

“Yeah I would. It’s almost feeding time here at the ranch, somebody’s gonna have to slop the big momma pig and it’s not gonna be you, I reckon.” Stiles quipped putting on an obnoxious, way overdone country accent.

Surging towards the window to get away while he could, Derek rolled his eyes for Stiles’ benefit. “One day you’re going to sass the wrong person and you’re gonna get your ass kicked.”

“Oh please, I gotta big, strong Alpha to protect me and a whole herd of Betas practically _begging_ to do whatever they can to please me, so I think I’m safe. Now get out. I’m hungry and you’re starting to look tasty.”

Derek was out the window in two seconds flat.  

∆∆∆

Stiles and his dad were sitting in their living room, alone together awkwardly. Stiles’ leg was jiggling like it was going to fall off any minute now and John sat with his arms crossed like he was trying to keep his hands away from any tap-able surface. They had been this way since John had come home from work and Stiles had cornered him into sitting because he said, “I need to tell you something.”

Now it was fifteen minutes later and all they had managed to say to each other was bubkis. But after fifteen minutes of painful silence Stiles couldn’t hold it in anymore. “So, I’m just gonna say it, ok? And I need you to believe me and to not ask too many questions and to just accept it. It would take too long to explain everything and its weird…not bad weird, just weird. And I want you to know that what I’m going to tell you is good news. It’s not bad, which I already told you, it’s just different… _way_ different than the norm. Ok?”

“Stiles, just spit out.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

“Stiles, I know we’ve struggled lately. I’ve been working so much and you’ve been lying so much that our relationship isn’t what it was, but I’d had hoped you would at least not treat me like an idiot. I’m your father, I thought I could count on you to be respectful at least if not honest. I mean--”

“Dad, seriously. I’m pregnant.” Stiles reiterated.

“That’s not funny, son.”

“It’s not meant to be, Dad. I really am pregnant. Do you want me to get the stethoscope mom bought me when I was eight? ‘Cause I’ll go get the stethoscope mom bought me when I was eight. Let me go get the stethoscope mom bought me when I was eight.” Stiles rose to his feet and John mimicked the motion. As Stiles ran off to find the stethoscope, John followed behind him.

“You can’t be serious, Stiles. This is impossible. Why won’t you tell me the truth? You say whatever it is isn’t bad, but then you lie to my face and expect me to just roll over and accept it, but how can I? Stiles, is something wrong?! Are you hurt?! Are you…sick? Are you…confused?”

“Dad!” Stiles abruptly yelled, knowing what his father meant by his questions. “I’m not crazy. And I’m not confused. I’m pregnant and I’m gonna prove it to you.”

“Ok…ok…” John said trying to placate his son who was now frantically searching for the stethoscope his mom had bought him when he was eight and she had just started to get sick. She had bought it for him to distract him, keep him occupied during their increasingly more frequent hospital visits. “Son…I love you, you know that. I will always love you, but I think you need to calm down and come with me to the hospital.”

“I’m not crazy!”

“Of course you’re not, son. I just think we should have a doctor take a look at you. Make sure you’re in tiptop shape. Is it drugs? Are you on something, Stiles? Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything. I won’t be mad, just tell me so we can fix this…”

“Found it!” Stiles hollered from inside his closet. Wandering back into his room he handed the thing over to his dad and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Ok put those thing in your ears and prepare to be wowed.”

“Stiles, let me take care of you, ok? Let me take you to a hospital where they can do this for you as much as you like. Ok? Let’s go get in the cruiser…”

“Dad!” Stiles screamed tears standing in his eyes just waiting for the slightest push to fall, grabbing ahold of his father’s arm to keep him in the room. “Please. Just do this for me. Please.”

Unable to deny his son when he’s being so earnest and open and seemingly about to cry, John took a couple steps back and planted his feet. Taking that as an agreement Stiles resumed unbuttoning his shirt. He took it off and then lifted his undershirt over his head until he was standing shirtless in front of his father knowing that later he would look back on this moment and cringe with embarrassment from being half-naked.

John couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he put the earplug ends in his ears and scooted up next to his son. Tentatively he placed the flat end over Stiles’ heart unsure of what he was supposed to be listening for. Stiles squirmed from the cold of the metal, but schooled his reaction and breathed deeply trying to get his heart rate down. His father listened and then asked louder than necessary, “What am I listening for?”

Stiles took the flat end and moved it down past his stomach, over his womb and held it there. John listened. He processed for a good while and then it dawned on him what he was hearing. In a flash the stethoscope was out of his ears and on the floor while John paced back and forth, trying to wrap his head around the fact that his son, his teenaged _son_ was pregnant. Stiles waited for the questions he knew were coming, the freak out that was destined to happen despite his most fervent wishes and he didn’t have to wait long.

“But…you? I mean that’s not…how? I just…you…I’m…it’s not…what…I mean…What?”

“I’m pregnant, Dad…with twins. Surprise! You’re gonna be a grandfather! _Yay_!”

Flabbergasted was the only way to describe John’s expression. Gob-smacked ran a close second, but what really clenched it in the end was the lack of John’s mouth hanging open like a dead fish’s. “But…you’re a…I mean…when you were…you’ve got a…how can…Stiles you don’t have the uh…the…the _parts_ for something like this! How can you be pregnant?!”

“Well, that’s a long boring story that really doesn’t need to be told at the moment.”

“Stiles. I need to know. I need to know how my _son_ who as far as I know still has boy parts, could be…ya know…pregnant.”

“I still have my boy parts, Dad I could show you if you like, but suffice to say I developed some extra bits here and there. Mostly in there, but I’m still a guy. I mean I’m totally still a dude. I’m just…a pregnant dude.”

“Stiles?” John muttered still confused by everything.

“But let’s not focus on the weirdness aspect, huh? Let’s just focus on the fact that you are going to be a grandfather! Twice over. And…and that I’m still your son…the boy you’ve always known and loved and nothing is going to change that, right? I mean…you still…love me, right Dad?”

John surged forward pulling his kid into the tightest hug they had ever shared as father and son. “Stiles, I love you. Always. Nothing _will_ ever change that.”

Tears were not falling from Stiles’ eyes he was merely watering his face for effect as he held tightly to his father in reciprocation. “Thank you, Dad! And I’m sorry…sorry that I’ve been so distant lately, and the lying…and the not telling you sooner. I was just…well I freaked out when I first found out and I was in total denial and then I told Derek and he was so weird about it at first--”

“Wait.” John said pulling back to look at his son’s face. “Derek Hale. The guy I arrested, twice. He’s the father!”

“No!” Stiles replied. “Well, maybe…I’m not…I don’t know exactly.”

“Stiles, how could you not know?! Is he the father or isn’t he?!” John let go of his son to gesture emphatically with his hands.

“I don’t know!” Stiles repeated. “It’s not like he’s the only contender for the father-of-the-pups award, ok!?”

“What!?” John yelled as Stiles froze realizing what he just said.

“What, what?”

“What you said.”

“What, what I said? When?”

“What, what you said just now.”

“What, what I said just now?”

“Stiles! You just said that Derek isn’t the only contender for father-of-the-kids award and so I’m asking who else is?!”

“Well…”

“Stiles tell me their names.”

“Well…there’s Derek.”

“And…?” John prompted.

“And…” Stiles debated internally whether or not to out the whole pack or just lie or jump out his window, or just disappear into a whole in the earth that was going to open up any minute now to rescue him, to save him from having to tell his father, the Sheriff, the man who owned a gun the names of the guys he had sex with once, in a gangbang-esque type scenario. “Scott.”

“Scott!?”

“And, Jackson.”

“Jackson Whittemore?! The guy who had a restraining order against you? He’s involved?”

“Yeah…and Isaac Lahey.”

“The kid whose father just died? The one you helped escape outta jail that time.”

“Yeah.” Stiles confirmed sheepishly. “And…”

“And there’s someone else?! Who?!”

“Well…someone _s_ actually.”

“Who, Stiles?”

“Well, there’s Boyd…uh Vernon Boyd? The third?”

“Isn’t he one of the new kids on the lacrosse team?”

“Yeah. Tall, buff, black. You couldn’t miss him. He’s a total dreamboat.”

“And who else, Stiles?” John pressed.

“Well…you remember that fire that killed most of Derek’s family?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you remember the one _male_ member of that fire who survived? In a coma? Who recently disappeared?”

“You mean…uh…Derek’s uncle, uh…Paul?”

“Peter.”

“Whatever.” John flippantly disregarded. “You mean you slept with Derek _and_ his uncle?! The man has to be at least in his thirties and you’re sixteen! You’re _sixteen_ and he’s older, _way_ older! And he’s Derek’s _uncle_! I mean how could…I don’t… I don’t understand. How could you date all these guys and not know which one you had unprotected sex with?”

“Well…” Stiles blushed unable and unwilling to provide an answer.

“Never mind. I don’t want to know. I just…I have a lot of bullets to buy.”

“Dad!” Stiles reprimanded. “That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Dad! You can’t go around killing the people who sleep with me!”

“True! But I can go around shooting the people who potentially knocked-up my _only_ child! My _son_ , as point of fact!”

“No, you can’t!”

“Yes, I can, Stiles! Someone needs to take responsibility for this. Someone needs to come over here and sit down with me and explain how my _son_ is pregnant with _their_ babies and that someone better wear a bullet proof vest because I plan on shooting some lead into their chests!”

“Dad! You aren’t going to shoot my kids’ father! Not even when you know who they are! Capisce?!”

“Excuse me?! I am your father, Stiles! It’s my job to protect you and take care of you and make sure you’re ok. And I’m the one who’s supposed to lecture you about school and about safe sex and about saving yourself for marriage and asking you what you plan to do for the rest of your life once you’re done with college, I mean…are you still going to college?! How are you gonna raise two kids without a _job_ and without knowing _who_ the father is?! How are you gonna finish high school with two kids under foot?! How are you gonna go off and get married and get a great job doing amazing things and settle down somewhere else and have an amazing life and all without knowing who the father is?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Stiles sobbed. “I GUESS I THOUGHT I WOULD NEED MY DAD TO HELP ME OUT AND MY FRIENDS AND WHATEVER OK!? I THOUGHT I WOULD HAVE HELP!”

John rushed to his son and put him in another embrace. “You do have help, son. You have me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling--”

“ _I’m_ sorry, Daddy, I’m sorry, I just--all these hormones and the babies and your questions I--”

“My questions were stupid. _I’m_ sorry. Of course I want to be here for you! I’m gonna be a grandfather! I always wanted to be a grandfa--”

“Yeah I know, but later, right? Not when your son is barely out of diapers himself.”

“Stiles you haven’t worn diapers in years. You’re…you’re not as grown as I would’ve liked for this to have happened, but…its happening now and I’ll always support you, whatever you need.”

“Dad…” Stiles rested his head on his dad’s shoulder and cried, sobbed, bawled, blubbered all while his dad held him tighter and rubbed his back and told him everything was going to be ok. They stayed like that a long time until Stiles’ crying eventually stopped and his hiccupping diminished.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I got your uniform all wet and snotty.” Stiles said pulling away.

“Its ok, son. It needed to get cleaned anyway. You good?”

“Yeah.” Stiles affirmed wiping the tears and snot off his face with his sleeve. “We good?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Stiles said giving his father a shorter much less messy hug.

“Of course, son. Anything, always. You know that. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Stiles said pulling away one last time, wiping his nose and eyes off one more time with his hands.

“You hungry?” John asked quietly.

“Always.” Stiles joked. “Like always-always. I’m never not hungry anymore, it’s weird.”

John chuckled. “Your mother was the same way when she was pregnant with you. She could eat a whole feast and then eat the plates it was served on and then the table to for good measure.”

“Oh my god, that’s me. How did she ever get over it?”

“She didn’t. It went away on its own. She woke up one day and wasn’t hungry…for food anyway.”

“Daaaaaaad…TMI!” Stiles whined mildly grossed out. “I don’t need to know _that_! GOD! I’m not hungry anymore. Thanks, _Dad_ , you’ve cured me.”

“Anytime, son. Would you like me to order some pizza or something?”

“Oooh, yeah, order us a couple large meat lover’s with jalapenos and mushrooms and extra cheese and garlic bread and ooh some cinnamon sticks too and maybe afterwards we can go for ice cream! I’m thinking cherry, root beer, and banana pudding for mine…”

“Yep your mother was the same way. Anything else you would like on our pizzas?”

“Yeah, get a couple veggie ones for _you_ to eat.”

“Stiles--”

“What?! I’m hungry. I’m gonna eat two whole large meat lover’s pizzas all by myself. You can have the veggies.”

    John gave in and ordered four large pizzas: two meat lovers and two veggie. He did with a lot of verbal arm-twisting eventually get Stiles to give him two slices of meat lover’s in exchange for getting ice cream afterwards, so it wasn’t a total loss. It was oddly enough the least awkward meal that they had shared in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST don't ask me why Isaac's got a foot kink or an oral kink, that's how the story came to me and that's how I related it to you.
> 
> SECOND I know it has been forever since I posted, but I haven't had Internet in my apartment lately, so my apologies. Like all my works this a WIP and I don't really have a set goal/endgame for this series as of now. If you have strong feelings about anything to do with this series let me know in the comments below. 
> 
> ALSO I've already determined the paternity of the twins, but I'm not telling you yet...*evil, maniacal laughter*


	6. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My apologies...A Memoir by Me
> 
> \--Or the one where I apologize for not posting and explain why.

Hey, hey All,

I'm sorry I haven't posted to this story in a while, but it will continue. Currently I am working on catching up to myself, you see the way I work is I get an idea and then I run with it while I have it and it usually ends up going in a lot of different bits and pieces. For example I have like 15 pages stored up for this story, but before I can post them I have to write the stuff between that and the chapters I've already posted. My apologies for any inconvenience. 

P.S. I don't have a specific endgame for this fic, so I think I'll end it at some point after the birth. I should warn everyone, I don't have plans for there to be a pairing. I can't promise Stiles will end up with anyone. If you have strong feelings about that please comment below...

Thanks for being amazing and for reading the things I write.  
Your Kestra


	7. Pregnancy Makes The Pack Go Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another exciting edition of Stiles being pregnant and the goings-on of the Pack because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not particularly pleased with this chapter, but I thought I would post it since I am having a rash of posting fever right now. Enjoy it or not let me know.

One morning Stiles went downstairs for breakfast twitching and grimacing with each step. His dad was making oatmeal, the only thing Stiles craved lately in the mornings. Stiles grunted and groaned in pain walking into the kitchen trying to stretch his body out.

“What’s wrong, son?” John asked worried momentarily stopping his stirring.

“Nothing. I think I slept on my back wrong or something. It hurts. Like a lot.” Stiles explained.

“Backaches are a common side effect of pregnancy.” John extolled turning back to the oatmeal. “I can give you a back rub real quick after breakfast.” He offered.

“Ok. Maybe after we eat.” Stiles agreed, gingerly taking a seat at the kitchen table. “What’s up to today, oh Maker-of-the-Meal-of-Oats?”

“Paperwork.” John answered succinctly. 

“Ah. The glamorous life of a public servant.” Stiles teased.

“Indeed.” John confirmed with a light sigh. “You?”

“School. Then, Idk. One of my…Pack might come over.” Stiles replied slipping his wolf terminology into the conversation as nonchalantly and gently as possible. His dad was still in the dusk about certain things: not totally in the dark, but not completely in the know. Things with werewolves still made his head spin sometimes, so Stiles resolved to work the information in gradually and by the spoon. 

“Oh?” Was all John said as he finished cooking the oatmeal. Shutting off the stove, he fetched two bowls from where they sat on the counter and dumped the oatmeal into them. Putting the pan into the sink and placing a spoon in each bowl, John pushed one of them towards his son who eagerly and gladly ate his fill. Why oatmeal was the only thing Stiles could hold down for breakfast neither Stiles nor John knew, but there they were the picture of domesticity: a father and pregnant son sharing a simple meal. “Which one?” John asked.

Stiles shrugged as he chowed down. “They switch off incubator-sitting duties daily.”

“Could it be Scott today? I haven’t seen him around in awhile.” John asked sincerely as he brought a spoonful of oatmeal up to his mouth.

“Naw, I think…” Stiles didn’t have a response, a lie suitable enough to get past his father. “I don’t think it’ll be him. Why do you ask?”

“Well…I’d feel better about this whole arrangement if I knew the people in this so-called ‘pack’ of yours. Especially on nights like this where I’ll be pulling a double shift. I’d know you’d be safe if Scott was around.”

“Yeah well he’s not, so…whatever.” Stiles said unintentionally petulant. He could feel himself pouting as he spooned a biteful, but then didn’t eat it. He let it splash back into the bowl from which it came. He didn’t want to talk about Scott anymore and his dad thankfully seemed to get the message.

“Let me know when whoever comes is here. And when they leave. Maybe another one could come by after that first one leaves or something.”

“Like a tag team? What am I? A game of pass the egg? No thanks. One emotionally-stunted teen wolf a night is more than enough for me. And believe me when I say they are _all_ emotionally handicapped in their own ways.”

“Not really boosting my confidence here, kiddo. I’m not sure I want emotionally compromised teenaged boys ‘watching over’ you. Maybe we could call someone else---”

“Like who? Zsa Zsa Gabor? I think she’s dead. And besides…I don’t think we could afford her rates.”

“Stiles, I’m serious.”

“Really, Dad? I’m sixteen going on seventeen. I can take care of myself. I don’t need a babysitter around me twenty-four/seven. In fact I think I’ll cancel the visit. A night to myself would be a welcome change of pace after all these months.” There was a honk from outside in the driveway. “It was a good meal and a good idea. Thanks, Dad. See you later!” Stiles called over his shoulder as he near sprinted to grab his backpack and skedaddle out of the house. 

“Damn it Stiles!” John called after his son. The front door slammed shut and John huffed in annoyance. “Kids.” He continued muttering to himself as he finished his bowl of oatmeal, then collected both of them, and deposited them in the sink.

*

That afternoon Stiles sat in the bleachers with Erica watching most of the rest of his Pack play lacrosse. Him and Erica didn’t say two words to each other until partway through the practice when Erica suddenly stood up and asked, “You want anything from the vending machines?”

“How ‘bout a Hunee Bun? I gotta craving for some sug--”

“Ok. I’ll get you one.” Erica interjected, smoothly rising from her seat. “And Stiles?”

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t hate you…much…anymore. It’s not _your_ fault that you’re a freak who can get pregnant. Its not _your_ fault Derek decided to breed you like some kinda freakish breeding experiment. Its not _your_ fault he decided to do all this without including me. So…I call a truce. I don’t hate you and you don’t fuck my Boyd ever again. Deal?”

“Uh? Yeah? Ok, deal.” Stiles stuttered taken by surprise. He held out his hand to shake on it, but Erica merely scrutinized his hand like it might be diseased.

“I know where that hands been and I ain’t touching that. You’ve got more teenage-boy cooties than the boy’s locker room.” 

With that Erica turned on her high, high heels and went in the direction of the school building. Not too long after her departure the lacrosse team switched out some players and Scott left the field. Stiles was tempted to run down and make a peace offering in person, but then he saw Allison bum rush the benched teen and Stiles remained where he was. 

The rest of the practice went on without any interruptions and when Erica returned with a Hunee Bun she and Stiles actually talked to each other in a non-spiteful, non-mean way about comics of all things. After practice let out Erica and Stiles went to the school and waited in the hallway for their Pack members. Boyd came out first. “Jackson said he’ll give you a ride home, Stiles. Me and Erica got plans.”

“Ooh, we going out, babe?” Erica cooed as she wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s neck. Stiles wanted to throw up and for once not from morning sickness or other annoying pregnancy symptoms. 

“So it’s Jackson’s turn to do some incubator-sitting huh?” Stiles joked. “Hope he’s got his credit card ready, I plan on eating my weight in Chinese food.”

“Ew.” Erica commented. “Please tell me we aren’t having Chinese.” She said to Boyd.

“I got us reservations at Hyde Park.” Boyd affirmed nuzzling his girlfriend’s nose. Erica squealed and Stiles rolled his eyes. 

“Can we go back to how it was when you hated me?” Stiles quipped. “You two being all lovey-dovey is making me wanna--”

“Finish that sentence and I will hit you over the head with another piece of your jeep.” Erica warned. Stiles snorted, but before he could unleash another come back Jackson walked out of the locker room. The blonde guy scanned the hall to make sure no one was around and then he sidled up next to Stiles and scented his neck.

Turning in towards his cuddle-er Stiles and Jackson bump noses in the most oddly cute way which seems to snap Jackson out of whatever weird werewolf must-cuddle-scent-the-Pregnant-One daze he was in cause he instantly straightened up blushing pink just like Stiles.

“Oh my God, you two get a room.” Erica taunts as she and Boyd turn and walk down the hall. 

“Bitch.” Jackson muttered under his breath.

“Heard that, ass-face!” Erica yelled over her shoulder. 

“Meant you to.” Jackson grumbled as he grabbed Stiles by the arm and pulled him in the opposite direction towards the school parking lot. When they reached Jackson’s shiny Porsche he wrenched open the door and shoved a sputtering, yelping Stiles inside. 

“Hey! Hey! Don’t bruise the merchandise!” Stiles hollered as his door slammed shut in front of his face. Jackson was sliding into his seat too soon afterwards and they were driving off to the Stilinski household in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. “What is up with you today, Jerk-wolf? Someone piss in your cereal or something?” 

“No!” Jackson defensively, instinctually denied. “I just…hate Erica sometimes. She’s such a bitch.”

“What did Erica do?” Stiles asked knowing he was missing something. 

“She just…she just…I hate her!” Jackson confessed as he stomped on his breaks at a red light. 

“Whoa, hey Jerkwolf, chill out. Tell Momma Stiles what’s what.” 

Squirming in his seat like he just wet himself a little bit, Jackson stuttered, “Don’t…Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Stiles asked even more confused.

“Nothing. Never mind.” Jackson barked, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. 

“No, Jackson, use your words or Momma’s nips are off limits.” Stiles bargained. Jackson growled in frustration out the windshield like the red light had offended him and his family. 

“I jus…I don’t have a thing for you ok? I love Lydia. I’ve always loved Lydia. Ok?!” Jackson blurted.

“Ok…” Stiles agreed. “Did Erica say you did?”

“No. Yes. I just...Its just that you smell good and shit and I said she needed to get over her beef with you and she was like saying stuff about love triangles and how she read somewhere that when two guys fight over a girl they’re really fighting their attraction to each other and there is no wa--”

“Whoa, whoa breath, dude.” Stiles jumped in softly touching Jackson’s arm. “You’re gonna give yourself the werewolf equivalent of a panic attack if you keep going. Listen, Erica probably said all that to piss you off cause she likes to do that. And as far as the whole love triangle theory? There is no love triangle. Lydia hardly acknowledges my existence, still. After everything, so…relax dude and drive me home. The light’s green.”

Jackson looked up to confirm and then stepped on the gas pedal and they zoomed away from the intersection. They reached Stiles’ neighborhood in record time thanks to Jackson’s anger-induced disregard for traffic laws. 

“Besides, you’ve got about the shittiest personality I’ve ever seen. If I was gonna have the hots for one of you it’d be Boyd. He’s hot _and_ quiet _and_ not a total ass-face unlike you.”

“Which is probably why Erica hates you so much.” Jackson said as he pulled into the Stilinski driveway. “She thinks you’ll steal him away by giving him pups.”

“Hm.” Was all Stiles said as Jackson parked. “I never thought of that.”

“Really? The Pregnant One Who Knows All Things And Is Awesome And Perfect And Hot couldn’t put that together?” Jackson teased. 

“Oh, stuff it, Jerkwolf or there’s gonna be no nipples for you for a long time.” Stiles threatened again. Jackson huffed, but didn’t counter what Stiles said as he turned off the car and stepped out. Stiles got out too and they went inside Stiles’ house directly to his bedroom. 

The instant Stiles crossed the threshold to his room he began unbuttoning his plaid, long-sleeve shirt. “Now look, my nips have been sensitive all day. Hell they’ve been fuckin’ screaming in abject agony since this morning so no nibbling or biting or sucking. Ya got that?!”

There was no verbal response from the blonde teen as Stiles continued undressing. Off came his t-shirt and then his undershirt. Standing topless in front of Jackson “the Blonde-Adonis” Whittemore used to be daunting to Stiles, embarrassing, but now it had become routine. Slouching onto his bed, Stiles leaned against his headboard and patted the mattress beside him. Jackson nodded and took off his leather jacket before sliding next to Stiles and his displayed chest. 

“They look puffy.” Jackson whispered with a mix of mockery and concern.

“You would know.” Stiles returned putting Jackson in his place as he loved to do. Jackson sniffed Stiles’ left nipple and not finding anything the matter tentatively swiped the nub with his tongue. Stiles tensed as a shock went through him even from the barely-there touch. Jackson pulled his head away, but Stiles stopped him, carding his hands though Jackson’s newly-washed hair. “Don’t stop. It just…felt sharper than usual.”

“Sharper?”

“I guess wearing three layers of shirts really irritated them.” Stiles shrugged. “Just be gentle with Momma’s tits, puppy, ok?”

Whimpering softly Jackson blushed as he leaned down and sweetly licked at Stiles’ nipple. Electric shocks shot through Stiles at the touch, but eventually he became desensitized to it or it otherwise started to not hurt as much, either way he let Jackson have his moment. 

Cradling Jackson’s head in his hands, Stiles murmured softly, “There’s Mommy’s good little boy. My sweet little Jacks, licking at Mommy’s breast. Such a good baby boy for Mommy. What do we say, Jacks?”

“Thank you…Mommy…” Jackson sighed keeping his eyes on the prize: the nipple in front of him.

∆∆∆

No one had to tell Lydia about Stiles and his pregnancy, she found out for herself of course. Towards the end of the third month one day after school had let out, Lydia marched over to Stiles and demanded they talk. The two sneaked off into an empty classroom following Stiles giving his werewolf entourage a _brb-do-not-disturb_ look. Lydia led the way and Stiles closed the door behind them. 

“Who’s the father?” Lydia asked diving right in, hands on her hips.

“I don’t know.” Stiles answered honestly with a slight shrug.

“So it could be any of them? Boyd? Isaac? Scott?” Lydia enumerated seeking confirmation. 

Seeing as how this was a moment of honesty, Stiles saw no reason not to give her the full list. “Or Derek or Peter…or Jackson.” Lydia nodded her head coolly processing the new information.

“How far along are you?” She asked looking down at his stomach like she was trying to get a visual clue to her question and backtrack to the day of conception. 

“Almost four months.” Stiles said crossing his arms over his chest subconsciously hiding from Lydia’s scrutinizing gaze. Flicking her eyes away momentarily Lydia sucked her teeth.

“Allison doesn’t know, does she?” She posed knowing the answer. Stiles shook his head wordlessly. This was so awkward, more awkward than Stiles’ sixth birthday when he pissed himself in front of everyone because a clown came up from behind and scared him to death. “You don’t plan on telling her do you?”

“I’m…leaving it up to Scott. Its not…my place.” Stiles explained pulling his words out of the ether. He’d never even thought of telling Allison, he’d always assumed that Scott would do it someday when they were on better terms or when he thought she would be more open and understanding about his part in the whole thing. The moment he said the words though he made up his mind that he was in fact going to wait for Scott to deliver the news. It would’ve been petty coming from him and too out of left field for anyone else from the Pack to mention it; it had to be Scott. “Are you gonna say anything? To her, I mean?”

“No.” Lydia replied flatly. “But I am gonna have a talk with Scott about it. She has a right to know.” Stiles nodded absentmindedly. He wasn’t sure prodding from Lydia would make any difference with Scott, seeing as how they weren’t close or even friends really, but seeing as how he was pretty much in the same boat he figured he’d give Lydia a shot at talking some sense into Scott. He decided to change the subject.

“What are you gonna do about Jackson? I understand if you feel betrayed or disgusted or freaked out, but it wasn’t completely his fault. It was kinda …instinctual, unplanned sorta. On his side of things I guess. I mean I assume, I don’t _know_ . I don’t _think_ he cooked up the idea or had a hand in it--” 

“But he had his dick in it. Didn’t he?” Lydia inquired, cutting Stiles off before he could ramble some more. Stiles blushed without meaning to, but didn’t duck his head or turn his eyes away. Crudity was nothing to him, but mentioning that night, made Stiles think of that night and Jackson did indeed put his dick in ‘it’, in him. Hearing someone outside the Pack even hint about the events of that night made Stiles nauseous for some reason. Probably because it was a big Pack secret, top of the list of things no one talked about even when they were all together. Once again Stiles didn’t have to answer and Lydia didn’t wait for one. “I’m gonna have a talk with him too. I don’t care for being lied to.”

“Sorry.” Stiles apologized feeling partially responsible for this whole mess, actually he was feeling totally responsible, but he wasn’t about to get into that with anyone, let alone Lydia. 

“Not your fault. It’s not like you planned for _this_ …” Lydia gestured at Stiles’ slightly pudgy stomach. “…to happen. How could you? Only in Beacon Hills could a cis- _guy_ get pregnant. We need to check this place for a Hellmouth or a Nexus or some other cause for all the weird supernatural bullshit around here.”

They both chuckled in agreement. 

“You’re right. I’ll get on that.” Stiles offered only somewhat kidding. “If you don’t mind me asking: how’d you figure it out?”

“First, Derek’s goon squad started hanging around you constantly, and dare I say protectively. I mean I don’t know if you know it or not, but they don’t particularly _like_ you, so their recent behavior is odd. Second, your consistent ‘sickness’ coupled with your subtle bodily changes pointed to something drastic. Third, Scott’s unusual behavior; you two have been an obnoxious, bothersome duo ever since, ever. And him dropping you cold turkey was a red flag. Then, Jackson told me you quite lacrosse and putting that altogether there were few possibilities besides something like a pregnancy.”

“Huh.” Was all Stiles said. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts Stiles looked down at his somewhat rounding belly. Being the Pregnant-One Stiles was hyperaware of the changes his body was going through. The whole not exercising everyday thing mixed with the intense amount of eating Stiles was doing lately was already having a discernable affect to Stiles’ eyes and he needed another person’s opinion, and he couldn’t depend on the people in the Pack. Too often if he asked one of them if he was showing they’d ignore the question (Erica), shrug (Boyd), tease him (Jackson), kiss his ass (Isaac), or get way too into Stiles’ personal space for ‘avoiding-the-question cuddles’ (Derek). Lydia wouldn’t lie. “You don’t think it’s noticeable yet, do ya?”

Sizing him up with a puckered face, Lydia answered, “No. Not yet at least. I give you another month before it starts to get noticeable. And another month before it gets unexplainable to the general public. After all a cis man’s body isn’t supposed to change this way.”

“You’re telling me.” Stiles joked. “I don’t see how people do this whole pregnancy thing. How we humans have survived as a species is beyond me.” 

Lydia nodded and then looked towards the door. Boyd was peering in through the small, square pane of glass set in the door and Lydia got the message. “Yes well. Keep me informed, Stiles. Through text. _Don’t_ call me _or_ visit me until this Allison-situation is sorted out. I’m _her_ friend first. But I am intrigued by this whole phenomena, disgusted and intrigued.” 

“I gross you out?” Stiles asked stung.

“Oh please.” Lydia scoffed. “Nothing you could ever do will gross me out. I was merely referring to pregnancy and childbirth as a whole.”

“You don’t want kids.” Stiles inferred from Lydia’s tone.

“Oh God, no.” Lydia confessed. “At least not until I’m much older. You know after I win the Noble Prize.” The two shared a smile as they started heading out the door. She added, “And even then I’ll probably adopt. Not everyone is meant to be a mother.” 

∆∆∆

Scott and Derek had a fight. Not fisticuffs, but a fight of words, which Stiles would’ve laughed at considering Derek’s and Scott’s inabilities to generally use words, but this particular time he didn’t find I funny. Why? Because _he_ was the subject of the verbal tiff. 

He hadn’t been there for the fight, but he had the strangest feeling like something had happened in the Pack. He only found out about the fight later when Jackson “Nipple-Slut-Cuddle-Whore” Whittemore let it slip. Jackson being the douchebag he is wouldn’t go into specifics but he did confirm that something had happened and that the something had been between Scott and Derek. However, the blonde refused to give any more information to Stiles’ utter annoyance.

Erica and Boyd on the other hand had no qualms or compunctions about divulging all the information about the fight Stiles could ever want. They described the scene in excellent, exact detail with a near verbatim recitation of the heated exchange. 

“Derek was pissed about Scott’s refusal to do his duty and help take care of you.” Boyd shared as he held Stiles’ hand still so Erica could paint them red against Stiles’ wishes. He had opted for blue, but Erica decided red was the color needed. So…what could he do?

“I told him to leave it alone.” Stiles whined. “I expressly forbade him from confronting my bestie.”

“Yes, well in case you’ve forgotten _he’s_ the Alpha, not you.” Erica reminded condescendingly. Stiles blew raspberries at Erica and tried to wiggle his fingers out of his Packmate’s grasps, but they were stronger. 

“ARGH! I hate being the Delta! Why does everyone else get to be stronger than me?!” Stiles bitterly complained.

“Oh yeah cause we need you crashing _through_ the walls instead of just falling _against_ them.” Erica quipped. Stiles stuck his tongue out at the blonde even as he resigned his struggling and slumped against Boyd in defeat.

“What happened next?”

“Scott said that his relationship with you as best friends started long before the Bite so Derek even as Alpha didn’t have the right to command him to do anything. He said it was none of our business, emphasis on the our.” Erica relayed as she finished adding the second coat to Stiles’ right hand.

“I doubt Derek took it well.” Stiles gloomily foresaw.

“He didn’t. It all went down hill from there. They would’ve come to blows had Isaac not stepped in and pulled them away from each other. He said, “Pack shouldn’t fight.” And then he grabbed Scott and vamoosed.” Boyd said, moving Stiles’ left hand towards Erica.

“OH MY GOD.” Stiles wailed. “I told Derek to leave it alone. I said _we_ , me and Scott, would handle it our way. This isn’t the first fight we’ve ever had. Why couldn’t Derek leave it alone?!”

Boyd shrugged and Erica was too focused on Stiles’ nails to respond, so Stiles got to stew for awhile as Erica finished her dastardly deed of painting Stiles’ nails red when he requested blue. Hours later when his nails were dry and Boyd had relinquished his hold Stiles went to his room and napped. He woke up with a headache at two in the morning with a furrow-browed Derek next to him.

“You’re an asshole and I hate you.” Stiles informed his Alpha.

“I had to do it.” Derek simply replied. “I can’t have him fronting my authority. _I’m_ the Alpha. He _has_ to learn his place.”

“You sound just like his father. _He_ was all about discipline and rules and being the head-of-the-family and in charge and stuff and him and Scott butted heads constantly. I doubt you’ll do any better.”

“Go back to bed, Stiles.” Derek whispered, flinging an arm over his Delta and bringing them closer together.

“Look, I’m just saying the more you tightening your grip, the more he’s gonna rebel. Do we not remember last year?”

“Shut up, Stiles. I’m trying to sleep.”

“Whatever, you know I’m right.”

“You should sleep too, you’ve got school tomorrow.” Derek added parentally. 

“As if. I just took like a gazillion hour nap, I’m not tired like at all.” Stiles argued. 

Nevertheless ten seconds later he was sound asleep again, snuggled up next to his Alpha, having strange dreams: Scott being a human again, him and Scott when they were little playing robbers, him and Derek making a lemon meringue pie, him and Isaac and Jackson building sandcastles on Mars, and him and Erica driving to Tulsa for vacation from their office jobs. 

Stiles woke up again when his alarm went off at 7:30, dizzy and alone. He hit the snooze button, but he didn’t go back to sleep. He laid in his bed and tried to make sense of his dreams until his alarm went off again a couple more times.

“Stiles! Breakfast!” 

           His dad’s summons wafting up from the kitchen along with the smell of bacon is what finally got a disoriented-Stiles out of bed. He rose with another back ache painfully making itself known and shuffled downstairs to his father and to breakfast and to another day of school being the Pregnant One.


	8. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited epilogue. 
> 
> Or the one where Stiles gives birth and everything gets settled.

 

“Fuck.” On a Tuesday at 11:24 AM Stiles very distinctly felt the pups shift position, move lower than they had previously been. Reaching over Stiles plucked his phone off the bedside table and quickly sent out the news. 

**To: Mama M**

**From: The Best Damn Thing To Ever Happen To this Town**

_The pups moved! EEEEEEKKKKKKEEEEE! WDID?_

**To: My Other Son**

**From: Mama McCall**

_Tell whoever is with you to take you to Deaton’s. I’ll meet you there, ASAP._

“ISAAAAAACCCCC!” Stiles hollered at the top of his lungs. Just to annoy the blonde terror. “Get off your lazy ass and take me to Deaton’s! _NOW_ ! Or Melissa’s will have your balls!”

∆∆∆

“Just breathe normally, okay, Stiles? Let the anesthesia do its job.” Melissa counseled. “Can you count backwards from a hundred for me?”

“Dad?” 

“I’m right here, kiddo.” John said taking his son’s hand in his. “And I’m not going anywhere ‘til this is all over.” John gave his son a peck on the forehead and a warm, hopeful smile. Stiles’ eyes were already drooping. “Just go to sleep, kiddo, and when you wake up you’ll be a father. Or a mother?”

“He’ll be a parent.” Melissa softly amended. She looked at Stiles fondly and lightly squeezed his other palm. “Just sleep, Stiles. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Stiles mumbled slightly slurred. His eyes fluttered shut, but Stiles being Stiles refused to go under so easily. He fought it, but in the end he surrendered to the soft darkness that was totally **not** like falling asleep. _Deaton’s tricked me again. The bast—_

∆∆∆

When Stiles woke up he felt heavy and woozy. He tried to fidget to get comfortable, but a hand on his shoulder kept him from moving. “You need to stay as still as possible, kiddo. You’ve got some pretty heavy duty stitches.”

“Yessir.” He gargled.

“We don’t want risk pulling any stitches.” Melissa added. 

“Am I gonna live?” Stiles mumbled. 

“Everything went smoothly, kiddo.” 

“You’re the father of two beautiful and completely healthy babies.” 

“Can I hold’em?” Stiles asked weakly. 

“Not yet, Stiles.” Melissa said. “But your father and I will bring them in so you can see them.”

“Don’t move, kiddo. We’ll be right back.” His father warned. For once in his life Stiles wasn’t going to argue. He didn’t feel hurt, not really, but he was acutely aware that he couldn’t quite feel his abdomen, which was probably for the best. _I probably look like Frankenstein’s monster..._ “Here they are, Stiles. Things 1 and 2.”

“Oh my God!” Stiles murmured. “That one looks **exactly** like Scott. It’s Baby Scott!”

“She certainly does, doesn’t she?” Melissa fondly seconded in a quieter tone. The tightly coddled infant in her arms mewled and sleepily fussed. “Thank you, Stiles.”

“No probs.”

“And how about this little guy? Whom does he look like?” John asked moving his bundle of joy closer to his son. Stiles studied the small, pink face intently, or as intently as he could coming off the anesthesia and minutely shrugged. “He’s white. And he has no hair. But his eyes are pretty. What color would you call that? Lightsaber blue? Forest green? Pink and yellow?” Stiles mumbled. “I’m getting sleepy again.”

“That’s alright.” Melissa reassured. “Your body’s been through a lot, you need to rest, and Deaton’s given you a little something to help you along.”

“Okay.” Stiles readily agreed. His eyelids felt intensely heavy. “Names…I gotta givem names.” 

“Shh, sweetie, it can wait. You need to rest for right now, okay?”

“Butheyneenamz.”

“Later, son. You can give them names later.” John promised.

“Dontcallemthingwhunntoo…”

“I won’t let them, I promise.” Melissa answered. John hastily agreed and Stiles was out once more.

∆∆∆

“—my daughter, so we’re not leaving!” Scott argued. 

“Well he’s one of _our_ sons, so we’re not leaving!” Derek countered. Stiles was starting to regret feeling much more alert now. _Why can’t these two ever be civil with each other?_

“Nobody’s leaving.” Stiles grumbled. “I’m the Delta and I say no one is leaving.”

“ _Who’s_ Delta?” Derek petulantly asked. 

“Both of y’all’s, dammit!” Stiles sharply returned. “I literally just had two people ripped outta me and y’all are already driving me crazy! Well, that ends now. From now on there are two packs in Beacon Hills: the Hale pack and the McCall pack. Deal with it.”

“Stiles, you can’t just—”

“Am I understood?” Stiles interjected. He was in no mood for debates. “Or do I need to get the goddamn **Argents** in here with their wolfsbane and their guns to make my point?”

“No!” Everyone announced in unison. 

“Okay, then. Everything is neutral: the town, the Preserve, the surrounding territories. No one claims anything besides like y’all’s homes and shit. But other than that everything is shared and everyone is friends and if everyone would kindly get the fuck out I need Melissa and some more no-pain, night-night juice.”

“I’ll get her.” Scott said quietly. Everyone filed out in grumpy silence. _I’ll deal with that shit tomorrow!_

Melissa came in shortly with a vial and needle in hand. “How are you feeling, Stiles?”

“I hurt, but I don’t and I’m tired, but I’m not at the same time. It’s weird.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you spend the better part of three days in a drug-induced slumber.”

“Three days?!”

“Yep. And we’re gonna try and keep you under for one more, just so we know for sure that you’re healing properly.”

“Fine. As long as you pump me full of the good time drugs, I don’t care.” Stiles said, holding out his arm for his shot. “I think I wanna call her Claudia, ya know?”

“That sounds nice.”

“Claudia Melissa Stilinski.” 

“That’s—” Melissa’s voice caught for a second. “I like that.”

“Cool.” Stiles muttered. “But I have **no** idea what to call her brother. I mean I’m not naming him after me. And I want something more imaginative than John after my dad. But I don’t know whose kid he is, so I don’t know if I should name him after somebody or choose at random, and I don’t want this to turn into _another_ argument—”

“There’s no rush, sweetheart. You can take your time with his name.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Stiles whispered. The drugs sort of washed over him. “I’ve been calling you that a lot lately, haven’t I?”

“Well, the drugs can make you say all sorts of things, but I’m flattered either way.”

“Cool,” Stiles yawned. “Don’t wanna freak ya out or nothin…”

“It doesn’t. Sleep tight.”

“Alright.” Stiles replied. “Oh hey, that rhymed…”

∆∆∆

“We should probably talk.” Stiles whispered as he laid Marc-Antony next to his sister in their Hale-financed double crib. Scott nodded and quietly walked into Stiles’ bedroom right across the hall. “So…”

“So,” Scott parroted. The dam burst. “I’m sorry, dude! I mean I was totally a dick to you and like ignored you and all that and it was stupid and like so wrong and I can’t even—”

“Well, you weren’t thinking straight.” Stiles justified. “None of us were. I mean I had no idea being a Delta was gonna be like this and then Derek was like constantly on your ass about everything—”

“Yeah, well he _should’ve_ been!” 

“ _Shh_ ,” Stiles shushed his overly loud friend and Scott continued at a quieter volume. 

“I was being a jerk. And it wasn’t even about Allison. It was all me. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Stiles softly accepted. “I mean it was really kinda shitty, but I mean she was your first girlfriend and first love and all that jazz. And the whole you-and-me-sex thing totally fucked everything up.”

“Yeah,” Scott chuckled. “I mean I’m thankful for the beautiful baby, but I’m _never_ doing that with you again.”

“And I thank you for it.” Stiles held his hand out and Scott took it. They shook hands on their deal. “I mean, no offense, but seeing your dick in the locker room was really more than enough for me.

“Ditto.” Scott shuddered in agreement. “So? We good?”

“Yeah. We’re good, Scott. I mean you’ll have to let me win at Halo for the rest of our lives, and watch Star Wars with me every Christmas until the end of time, but yeah, we’re cool. I mean we’re best bros for life and all that ya know that is what the pledge required.”

“Oh my God I can’t believe you still remember that.” Scott smiled fondly. “So best bros for life.”

“Yep.”

“And co-parents for Clams.”

“Her nickname _shall not_ be Clams!” Stiles insisted under his breath. “I can’t believe you are calling our daughter Clams. _Clams_ . Aren’t you like allergic to shellfish?”

“Not any more.” Scott replied. “Besides, it’s cute.”

“Is not.”

“Is _too_ !” Scott argued. 

“God, you’re an idiot.” Stiles snarked. “But you’re _my_ idiot.”

“Thanks. I think.” Scott accepted. “You wanna play video games or something?” 

“I would, but I should take a nap while the little ones are down.” Stiles said. 

“Oh yeah, smart. I wouldn’t be able to stay long anyway. I’ve got a pack meeting-slash-bonding thing with Boyd and Erica in a bit.”

“How are they? I mean being _your_ Betas now and whatever?”

“I don’t know. It’s weird. I’m an Alpha now and I have Betas, like, I don’t even know, dude. 

“Well,” Stiles said eventually. “As I see it y’all are all _my_ bitches now anyway, so relax Scotty you’re in good hands. I got this.” 

“Oh, that makes me feel _so_ much better.” 

“Aw, look at you being all snarky and sarcastic. It’s adorable. Now get out. I need to sleep.”

“Yeah okay.” Scott said not moving an inch. So…are we good? Like for reals?”

“Yeah, dude. We good. As long as you get outta here so I can nap in the middle of the afternoon like a middle-aged cat lady.”

Scott laughed. “Yeah, okay. Later, dude.”

“Later.”

∆∆∆

John dropped into his recliner, exhausted and ready for a nap. His home was now Grand Central Station, the hub and hangout headquarters for both of Beacon Hill’s werewolf packs; two motley crews of hormonal, obnoxious teenagers constantly underfoot and eating him out of house and home. Never before had he been so grateful for a quiet house. 

Flicking on the TV and immediately turning down the volume John found a basketball game to watch and unwind. In the months since the birth he had hardly spent any time at the station, too busy helping his son wrangle two beautiful babies that he had fallen in love with at first sight; hook, line, and sinker. He couldn’t tear himself away and fortunately he had lots of vacation time stored up. 

The stairs creaked softly and before long Stiles appeared holding a baby monitor looking as equally worn-out as his old man. John shook his head. Even with the extra available hands childrearing was all consuming. “Twins finally out?”

“Yep.” Stiles replied collapsing onto the couch. “Clauds was fidgety, wouldn’t chill. Marc-Antony though was out like a light. _Boom_ . Just like his pops.”

“Mm-hm.” John agreed. Scott’s ability to just fall asleep at a moment’s notice was remarkable. Both Stilinski men envied him that. “I saw Derek skulking around earlier, everything okay there?”

“Yeah, he’s just antsy.”

“About what?” John inquired.

“The usual: Peter.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he hasn’t done anything ya know evil or villain-y whatever since the twins were born and that’s making Derek nervous.”

“Should he be?”

“I don’t know.” Stiles shrugged. “I mean he doesn’t feel any different than before, so I think, nay, I _know_ he’s got some kinda scheme afoot, but do I think he’ll slaughter us in our sleep or through inaction allow us to be slaughtered in our sleep? Nah. So, I don’t know, I think Derek’s gonna be a little more protective-slash-annoying for awhile.”

“Great.” John deadpanned.

“Yeah, so, have you checked in with the station lately?”

“As of this afternoon all is well. The new guys have gotten the hang of things and Parrish is so gung-ho I barely do more than say ‘Hi’ to everyone and sign paperwork. I’m obsolete. A glorified paper-pusher.”

“A paper-pusher with a badge and a gun.” Stiles pointed out. He snorted. “Sounds kinda like a really lame tagline for a shitty cop procedural. BHPD, The Inside Story: Paperwork. Duhn-duhn-duhn!”

“Thanks for reducing my pain to a punchline, kiddo.”

“Anytime, daddio.” Stiles yawned.

“Are you gonna turn in?” John asked.

“Soon. You?”

“Well, I’ve got some files to look through and then I’ll head up.” John said. 

“Need any help?” Stiles asked perking up at the thought of crime solving. 

“Not from my overworked, teenaged-parent son. You need your sleep.”

“So do you, Gramps. You’re not as young as you used to be ya know. The fruit of my loins ain’t gonna take pity on you just cause you’re old.”

“Oh, thanks for the reminder, kiddo.”

“No probs.” Stiles winked and then yawned so big his jaw popped. 

“To bed, young man. I mean it.” John said. “And leave the monitor here. I’ll listen for the twins.”

“You sure?” Stiles asked getting up without a fight, which only goes to show how tired he truly was. 

“Yes. Now go.”

“Wake me up in like an hour, okay?” Stiles requested. “I don’t want the twins to nap for too long otherwise they won’t sleep tonight.”

“I will.”

“Okay. Peace out, my homies. Catch ya on the flip side.”

“Go to bed, Stiles. I beg you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles muttered as he left the room. The stairs creaked softly and John heard his son’s door squeak mostly shut, but then the house was silent, almost eerily so. John sighed to fill the emptiness and got up to fetch his files. Going over activity reports and keeping an ear out for the marvelous, pink-smelling little ones while partially watching the game and sipping on a cold bottle of non-alcoholic beer sounded downright heavenly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. 
> 
> In all honesty I had given up ever finishing this fic, but I put together what I could, so if it feels disjointed or just plainly not very good that is why. 
> 
> I came back to give some kind of closure to this fic. The way this story came out was not what I originally was going to do, but I have since learned that mutli-chapter, long-running fics are not really feasible for me. I just lose interest halfway through as other fic ideas come along. Anyway...
> 
> Scott was always going to be the father of one of the twins and as for the second father I had originally planned it to be Jackson but you can basically choose whoever you like to be the second father.
> 
> Sorry if this is a letdown or a disappointment. I think at some point I thought I would do some kind of grand reveal of the identity of the fathers, but I am over that. 
> 
> If someone would like to rewrite, or redo, or AU this fic then please leave a comment below to let me know and GO FORTH WITH MY BLESSING.


End file.
